


Double-Edged Knife

by EruditePrincess1993



Series: Double-Edged Trilogy [1]
Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Alternate Universe, Better Than Canon, Christmas Fluff, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:11:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 114,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2713430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EruditePrincess1993/pseuds/EruditePrincess1993
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric realizes Four's feelings for Tris at the start, and is attracted to Tris as well. Seeing this as another competition, to win her over before Four does, Eric takes her under his wing, personally training her so she could make it through stage one, not realizing that he will start developing feelings for her. Meanwhile, Tris becomes gravitated towards him against her will. No one could possibly develop feelings for an ruthless Dauntless leader, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Another attempt at Eric/Tris. This is basically Divergent, but with a love triangle involved. I know it’s unoriginal, as this has been done a few times. This is one of those stories where Eric finds out from the get-go that Tobias likes Tris, but he won’t force himself on Tris this time. 
> 
> The war is pushed back a year later, and everything is canon up until when they learn how to throw punches.
> 
> Also on my FanFiction account.

After lunch, Four leads us to a new room. It’s huge, with a concrete floor that has rust stains and it has a large platform in the middle. On the left wall is a chalkboard. I wonder when technology would come into place but probably not until the second stage. Seeing that it’s the physical stage, it would be pointless.

            Our names are written on the board in alphabetical order. Hanging at three-foot intervals along one end of the room are large orange punching bags. Eric is leaning against one of them, looking at us like another group is more superior then us.

            “I overlooked the Dauntless-born with Lauren this morning, and as I said yesterday,” he begins, straightening his posture until he’s not leaning against the punching bag, “they have an better chance of passing initiation then the lot of you. It’s best not to get cocky, because that would decrease your chances of making it through initiation.”

            It’s like I see a double-standard in his words; I bet he was cocky during his initiation. The Erudite are arrogant, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise since he was once Erudite.

“As I said this morning,” says Four, “next you will learn how to fight. The purpose of this is to prepare you to act; to prepare your body to respond to threats and challenges – which you will need, if you intend to survive life as a Dauntless.”

            I wonder what that will be, but since Eric mentioned cuts at the end of stage one and three, it wouldn’t be easy.

            “Today, you will first learn about fighting techniques and tomorrow you will start fighting each other,” explains Eric. “I highly recommend that you pay attention as Four demonstrates. Those who don’t learn fast will find themselves unprepared.

            Four names a few different punches, demonstrating each one as he does, first against the air and then against the punching bag.

            I catch on as we practice. Like with the gun, I need a few tries to figure out how to hold myself and how to move my body to make it look like his. The kicks are more difficult, though only he teaches us the basics. The punching bag stings my hands and feet, turning my skin red, and barely moves no matter how hard I hit it.

            Four wanders through the crowd of initiates, watching as we go through the movements again, while Eric paces behind us, like a lion waiting for his prey. When he stops behind me, my heart begins to race and my palms sweat. I don’t want to look at him, as I don’t want him to look at me. He most likely wants to see me not do well, since he even doubted that I would even last.

            Looking sideways at him, he studies me, but not as if I’m inferior, for some reason. “There is room for improvement. You just need to hold yourself correctly.”

            He puts his hands on my shoulders and then to my waist to straighten my posture. “Just bend your knees a little, and if it helps, think about something that makes you angry, that way the punching bag will not look as if you weren’t hitting it.”

            He walks away from me, and I slouch. Considering that he expressed doubts about me lasting initiation, I’m wary of what his motives might be. However, I should take his advice, if I want to make it to initiation.

            So, I bend my knees and straighten my posture. The challenge is thinking of something that angers me, and somehow it’s not that hard. I think of every report that the Erudite released with every punch, how it marred Abnegation’s reputation. The bag sways a little more as a result.

            Not by much, but it’s an improvement. When Four stops in front of me, my anxiety increases. I had Eric analyze me. I don’t need Four to do the same. He stares at me, like he’s analyzing my movements as I punch the bag with force.

“Don’t exert yourself. You don’t have much muscle,” he says, “which means that you are better off using your knees and elbows. You can put more power behind them.”

Suddenly he presses a hand to my stomach. My heart pounds so hard my chest hurts, and I stare at him, wide-eyed.

“Never forget to keep tension there,” he says in a quiet voice. Four lifts his hand and keeps walking. I feel the pressure of his palm even after he’s gone, though Eric’s touch feels even more prominent then that. It’s strange, but I have to stop and breath for a few seconds before I can keep practicing again.

When we are dismissed for dinner, Christina nudges me in the elbow.

“I’m surprised Four didn’t break you in half,” she says. She winkles her nose. “Though I find Eric _more_ scary then Four. I thought he might have killed you.”

“Yeah, he’s scary alright,” I say. I don’t know what his motives were, but I guess I don’t want to. I wish that the whole thing didn’t happen.

 

* * *

 

Today is the day we start fighting, which is what Four said yesterday. While everyone else is sleeping, I hastily change into the plain black clothes supplied by the Dauntless and leave the dormitory.

I’ve only been here for two days now, so it takes some time for me to find the second training room. The room is dimly lit, though I can easily see the punching bags as the orange fabric makes them luminous.

I approach the nearest punching bag and bend my knees slightly, just as Eric taught me. I don’t even know why I should even take his advice, concerning the negative impression that he gave me the first night. It could be because I want to pass initiation.

Since I never like to think about Erudite, I focus my anger on the antagonistic reports as I practice. The bag sways slightly. I press my palm against the surface until it stops swaying before I punch it again, this time, using my elbows.

“Whoa, Stiff, it’s not such a good idea to waste your energy on the first day of fighting,” I hear a rough voice say. Eric. I abruptly turn and face him. He stands a few feet away from me. I expect him to yell at me for entering the training room without authorization. Instead, he wears an amused smirk on his face.

“What?” I demand before I could think. I cringe, knowing that I shouldn’t have snapped at an Dauntless leader. Especially a potentially volatile one like Eric. He shows no reaction to me snapping at him.

“I find it rather surprising that an initiate originating from a faction such as Abnegation would be this determined to go through stage one,” he says, advancing towards me.

“I have no intention of becoming factionless,” I tell him. I try to find an excuse just so I could get away from him, but I don’t.

“No one wants to go to the factionless slums, trust me,” he says. “Besides, as I said last night, there is room for improvement for you, and all someone has to do is make you better.”

Due to the way he says it, it sends a shiver down my spine.

“No, learning under you is cheating my way up the ranks,” I point out. I want to learn for myself how to defend myself, not have someone like Eric teach me.

“It’s not cheating if you learn from me,” says Eric. “Unlike Four, _I’m_ authorized to take an initiate under my wing if I believe that they’ll show improvement.”

A few warning bells go off in my head, but not strong enough to signify that he’s dangerous. “I can manage on my own, thanks,” I tell him.

“Well, I would hate to see you cut from initiation, especially after you decided to have an tattoo.” He touches the three ravens that are on the side of my collarbone with his index finger. My heart races at his touch, though I recoil slightly.

I slap his hand away and I expect him to grab me by the shoulders and slam me into the nearest wall for my act of rash stupidity, but his smirk widens.

“Yeah, there is no disappointment with you,” he says. “The feisty female initiates tend to last long, and all you would need is to have someone train you to be better.”

The door opens and I look over Eric’s shoulder to see Four enter the training room, an black jacket slung over his shoulder. He looks at us quizzically before he hardens his gaze, turning it to Eric.

“What she do that would require you to intimidate her at this time of morning?” asks Four.

“Nothing,” says Eric. “The best protégés require some intimidation to mold their abilities.”

I stumble and my back hits the punching bag. What did Eric just call me?

Four obviously is not going to sweep that under the rug. “You are going to make the Stiff your protégé? I thought that you enjoyed seeing the weak initiates suffer through initiation. You always root for the strong ones”

Blood rushes to my face as I glare at Four. I’m not weak and I’ll prove that I’m not weak.

“I acknowledge good potential when I see it,” says Eric, smirking. “And she’ll only have improvement from the _best_.”

“And that person is _you_?” asks Four through gritted teeth. “We are not supposed to personally train the initiates. It’s considered unfair.”

“You forget that I’m authorized to take an initiate under my wing,” Eric replies. “If you do so, it’s considered favoritism.”

“Yeah, I forgot that hypocrisy,” Four spits out, with evident sarcasm.

Seeing this as an escape, I quietly leave the room just as their argument starts. I look for the dormitory to find peace, so I can mull over what happened at the training room in silence.

I thought this initiation would be difficult at best, but it has become even worse considering that Eric has made me his protégé. I’ll never last stage one of initiation if he’s going to examine me like he’s holding a microscope.

All he wants to do is to see me fail initiation.

 

* * *

 

“What were you doing this morning?” asks Christina during breakfast. “I thought I saw you leave your bed.”

I pick my muffin, and look at her. “Just practicing some punches. That’s all.”

I don’t want to tell that Eric has made me into his protégé against my will. I can’t afford jealousy, especially if it’s over something I never even wanted in the first place.

“Hopefully you didn’t spend too much of your energy, because we are expected to fight this morning,” says Christina.

“Trust me, I recovered some of it by resting,” I reply, before finally taking a bite out of my muffin.

“You weren’t in the training room the same time as Eric and Four, were you?” asks Will, as he sits down next to Christina.

“Why?” I ask.

“I overheard some members of Dauntless talking at the breakfast line,” Will replies. “Something about Eric and Four getting into some sort of brawl.”

“Over what exactly?” asks Christina.

“I couldn’t get what it was exactly,” says Will.

I’m relieved that he didn’t hear the real reason why those two engaged in an brawl, because it’s unfair for one of the initiates to get personal help. I don’t want to cheat my way up, and that’s what it is.

Christina, Will, and I are the first initiates to enter the training room. I see that Eric is standing in the corner smirking while Four’s back is turned, as he writes on the chalkboard.

I feel my stomach twist into a knot, fearing the worst. There are nine of us, so there is a chance that I might not fight, but I don’t want to be put with anyone physically imposing. I don’t want easy; I just don’t want something too difficult.

Four is finished writing on the board once all the transfers are here, and he turns to face us. “Since there are an odd number of you, one of you won’t be fighting today.” He steps away from the board, and I see that my name is next to Edward’s, one of the Erudite initiates. We come second after Will and Al.

I’ve seen him with the punching bags yesterday. He’s quite good.

“Good luck,” says Will. “He read self-defense books when he was ten for fun.”

“That’s encouraging,” I say with sarcasm.

“This isn’t good,” says Christina. “I’m up against the Tank.”

“The Tank?” I find Christina’s name on the board. Written next to it is “Molly.”

“Yeah, Peter’s slightly more feminine-looking minion,” she says, nodding toward the cluster of people on the other side of the room. Molly is a tall like Christina, but that’s where the similarities end. Her skin is lighter and she has shoulder length brown hair with bangs that nearly cover her eyebrows.

            “Those three” – Christina points at Peter, Drew, and Molly in turn – “have been inseparable since they crawled out of the womb, practically. I hate them.”

Will and Al stand across from each other on the platform. They put their hands up by their faces to protect themselves, as Four taught us, and shuffle in a circle around each other. Maybe watching them could give me tips on how to fight.

Christina goes on about how Peter is “pure evil” and his tendency to lie about brawls as I watch the fight between Will and Al. Al punches Will hard in the jaw. I wince.

I pay attention to the way they hold their bodies; anything that I could use during my fight. Will is guarding his abdomen every time Al tries to land a punch to his abdomen. I could use that

“Tris, are you listening to me?” asks Christina.

I look at her. “I’m just trying to see what I could use during my fight.”

“I don’t blame you, since no one wants to be unprepared,” says Christina. “At least you don’t have Molly or Peter.”

Will hooks a foot around one of Al’s legs and yanks back, knocking Al to the ground. Al scrambles to his feet.

“I’ll have to see it first,” I say.

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be pretty,” she replies. “It would be no fun being beaten into a bloody pulp.

I nod as I look at the platform. Will and Al face each other for a few more seconds, more hesitant and wary than ever. Will flicks his brown hair from his eyes. They glance at Four like they’re waiting for him to end the match, but he stands with his arms folded.

After a few seconds of circling, Eric rages, “Do you think this is a leisure activity? Should we break for naptime? Fight each other!”

“But…” Al straightens, lowering his guard down, and says, “Is it scored or something? When does the fight end?”

“It ends when one of you is unable to continue,” says Eric. For a moment, I want to speak out: that’s sadism. However, I decide to keep my mouth shut.

“According to Dauntless rules,” Four says, “one of you could also concede.”

Eric narrows his eyes at Four. “According to the _old_ rules,” he says. “In the _new_ rules, no one concedes.”

“A brave man acknowledges the strength of others,” Four replies.

“A brave man never surrenders.”

“Well, if those were the rules when we fought, you wouldn’t be standing here,” Four retorts.

Eric glares at Four for a few seconds. I feel like the air pressure in the room has decreased, and these two were going to fight. Fortunately, Eric turns away from Four.

Al wipes his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.

“This is ridiculous,” Al says, shaking his head in disbelief. “What’s the point of beating him up? We’re in the same faction!”

“Oh, you think it’s going to be that easy?” Will asks, grinning. “Go on. Try to hit me slowpoke.”

Will puts his hands up again. Al tries a punch and Will ducks. After a failed punch and a few kicks, Al charges at Will, grabs his arm before punching him in the jaw.

I watch the light leave Will’s eyes. They roll back into his head, and all the tension leaves his body. He slips from Al’s hands, dead weight, and crumples to the platform.

_Please be alive. Please be alive._

Al’s eyes widen, and he crouches next to Will, tapping his cheek with one hand. The room falls silent until there is a pin drop as we wait for Will to respond. For a few seconds, he doesn’t, just lies on the platform. Then he blinks, clearly dazed.

Get him up,” Eric says. He stares with greedy eyes at Will’s fallen body, like the sight is a meal and he hasn’t eaten in weeks. The curl of his lip is cruel.

Four turns to the chalkboard and circles Al’s name, declaring him the winner.

“Next up – Edward and Tris!” shouts Eric.


	2. Chapter Two

            I feel my heart beat pick up pace at that announcement; sweat collects in my palms. I watch as Al pulls Will’s arm around his shoulder and drags him off the platform.

            “Good luck,” says Christina as I take a deep breath.

            “Thanks,” I say. I need that. I go up to the platform to meet Edward. Judging by his physique, it’s like he didn’t just spend the first part of his life behind a computer or an book. His muscles indicate that he probably practiced self-defense. Will did say that Edward did read books on fighting techniques. I imagine Caleb’s books hidden in his room. Did Edward do the same in Erudite?

            As I get in position, I look over Edward’s shoulder to see Four supporting Will from the waist and leading him out. Four leaving makes me nervous. Leaving us with Eric is like hiring a babysitter who spends his time sharpening knives.

            We both circle, our legs bent. I notice that Edward has his arms spaced apart, protecting both his face and his abdomen. I try doing the same.

            After a few seconds of circling, I try throwing a punch at his jaw. He blocks it and before I can shield my face, he punches me in the eye. I hold my palm to my eye and like Will, I hold out my palm to block another punch. I stumble backwards from the force of the punch but it doesn’t hurt like he would have had he punched my nose.

            “Don’t go easy on the Stiff!” I hear Peter jeer.

            “Shut up!” I hear Eric yell. I guess that an initiate egging the other on is not tolerated here.

            I block another punch with my elbow and but he’s too fast to react when I try aiming at his jaw. I try to kick his side but before I could, he flips me. My back hits the floor. I hook one my feet around his legs and yank him to the floor.

            I get up my feet before he does and we circle again. I try throwing a punch but he blocks it and I’m not as fast as he is when it comes to deflecting punches when he punches me in the nose.

            I don’t know how many minutes it’s been, though I do know that he’s punched and kicked me more than I have kicked and punched him. Feeling halfway conscious, my nose dripping with blood and my body throbbing with pain, I manage to get on my feet.

            I try throwing a punch but he blocks it with his elbow and sends a punch to my abdomen before I could even react. I fall to the platform and try to get on my knees, but I drop to the surface of the platform.

            “Get her up,” I hear Eric say. I feel Edward’s arm around my shoulders and he drags me from the platform.

            “Next up – Molly and Christina!” I hear Eric shout. Once I’m off the platform, I feel someone else support me from my waist and lead me out of the room. I expect to see Four, only to see that it’s Eric instead. It’s rather uncomfortable to have him touch me, and worse I don’t know why he feels it’s his obligation to take me to the infirmary.

            I feel uneasy when we walk by the chasm, thinking that he might have me hang on the railings for my defeat, but he keeps walking until we reach the infirmary. When I’m placed on a mattress, I allow my eyes to close.

 

            I don’t know how I have been out, though it probably wasn’t long. My eye feels swollen and I feel an bandage on my nose. When I try to sit up, my body aches.

            “Welcome back to the land of the living,” I hear Eric say. I turn my head to see him sitting by my bed, smirking. I close my eyes, not wanting to see him. He came to gloat, I know it.

            “Were you here the whole time?” I ask, dreading the answer.

            “No, I came just a minute ago,” he answers. “Lunch started two minutes ago.”

            This time, I try to sit up and I look at him. “Why did you have me fight the first day? I wasn’t fully prepared.”

            “You would have been _more_ unprepared if you _didn’t_ ,” he says. “At least you have some footing, and hopefully you paid attention to the fight before you.”

            “I did, and he was too fast,” I answer.

            “Your fighting skills are not the best, but with some extra training, you would make it to stage two,” he says.

            I glare at him. “I’m not interested in becoming your protégé.”

            “Then you risk getting cut from initiation,” he says. “I know from your background that you probably didn’t read anything on fighting techniques. If you want to be Dauntless –”

            “I have watched the Dauntless since I was young, so –” I start before he interrupts me.

            “Watching Dauntless members climb buildings and structures, and watching them jump off and on trains doesn’t fully prepare you for Dauntless life,” he says. “It would be preferable if you accepted my help –”

            “Your _help_?” I demand. “You verbally doubted that I would even last initiation.”

            “You will accept my help whether you like it or not, unless you want to be cut from initiation,” he says.

            I sigh. There would be no use arguing with him. He would make initiation miserable for me regardless. “Fine. I’ll accept your help.”

            “Good. Meet me in the training room every morning before breakfast,” he says. “Five thirty preferably.”

            “What should I tell my friends?” I ask.

            “They are less likely to become jealous if they think it’s punishment for going in the training room before hours,” he replies, and with that he leaves.

            Something doesn’t seem right here. Why would he help me pass stage one, especially if expressed his doubts about me lasting initiation? There has to be an ulterior motive. It’s not that he wants me to succeed initiation.

 

            “At least you’re not as bad as I am,” says Christina as I sit in the table with her and Will. Christina looks as if she took the very bad end of an fight: her lips are split open and her eye is black, not to mention that she is holding her side. I don’t see Al.

            “How did your fight go?” I ask.

            “Good thing your fight was before mine,” says Christina. “I thought that Molly was going to kill me.”

            “Did Four intervene?” I ask.

            “He stopped the fight after I conceded,” Christina answers, “and I doubt that Eric will be too happy, since that is the old Dauntless rule.”

            “Speaking of Eric, I have to tell you something,” I say.

            “Did he do something?” asks Will.

            “No, it’s just…” I take an deep breath and tell them that I have to meet him in the training room every morning, and I tell them the lie that it is punishment for practicing in the training room before hours. I search their faces for any reaction. Christina slams her sandwich on her plate.

            “So he plans to have you exhausted when you fight again?” she asks.

            “Well, obviously,” I say.

            “What else did you do besides sneaking to the training room before hours?” Will asks using his usual Erudite curiosity.

            I put my head down. “Yeah, I kind of snapped at him as well.”

            “Boy, you really have a death wish, and I thought that poking at Four was bad enough,” says Christina.

            Maybe I do have a death wish.

 

            After lunch, we go back to the original training room. Its target practice again, but this time with rifles instead of hand guns. Four is alone, much to my relief. Eric is probably helping Lauren with the Dauntless-born initiates.

            If only he would only oversee the Dauntless-born for the rest of stage one, that way we won’t have to deal with him. Only I have to see him every morning.

            “Rifles are more complex than a hand gun but the same rules apply,” he says, as he hands them to us while we are at stations. Four slams a rifle into my chest before moving on. “Watch me closely, or you’ll be lost.”

            We watch as he bends over and slowly, he shoots the plywood target, an concentrated look on his face. I turn to my own target and bend over in my station. I try holding my rifle like everyone else, and look through the scope.

            I pull the trigger, and the force of the gunshot makes me stumble a little. When I look at the target, I see that it hit the outermost circle. It’s like the handgun: it takes me several bullets until the bullet holes are close to the inner target.

            “Looks like shooting firearms are the only things she can do,” I hear Molly jeer.

            “She barely lasted in that match with Edward,” I hear Peter say in reply.

            That was my first fight, and predictably I was bound to lose. I just hope they don’t hear that Eric will be personally training me in the morning. It’s not like I’m looking forward to it, anyway. Spending my mornings with Eric makes my skin crawl.

  I’d rather have Four give me the extra training instead.

   Four releases us for dinner, but he insists I stay behind. Wondering what I did wrong, I stay in my station until everyone has left.

  “What have I done wrong?” I ask when Four closes the door.

  “Nothing, but I would like a word with you,” he says.

   I groan, wondering what it is when he approaches me.

  “Eric wants you to meet him every morning in the other training room during stage one, to supposedly give you extra training,” says Four.

   I nod. “Are you saying that you’re going to have me exempted?”

  “No, but I will ask you to be careful,” he says.

  “Be careful. Why is that?” I ask.

 “What did you get on your aptitude test?” asks Four.

 Tori’s warning pulses through my head. I must not tell him. “Abnegation,” I say.

 Four nods, but doesn’t look satisfied by my answer. “Just be careful around him, okay?”

 “Why?” I ask.

“Erudite has been putting plants in some of the factions to look for Divergents, and I think that Eric is one of them,” says Four. “If he wants you under his eye every morning, it means that you’re probably one as well.

I’ve always been wary of the Erudite ever since those reports came out, but I didn’t think that they would hunt down Divergents. My body goes cold at this.

“No, I just received Abnegation,” I tell him. “May I go now?”

He nods and I run out of the room, trying to forget about my conversation with Four.

 

* * *

 

I wore my wristwatch when I slept so I wouldn’t oversleep and at five in the morning, I changed into the plain black clothes and I snuck out of the dormitory. I go through the underground maze, the dim lights preventing things from being too dark.

A few Dauntless are out and about, but they hardly pay any attention to me as I make my way to the training room. The door is unlocked, though when I enter the room, I see no sign of Eric. Deciding that I should kill time, I go to the nearest punching bag and begin practicing.

I watch as the punching bag swags slightly to my punches and kicks. One thing that I can give Eric credit is that thinking something that angers you is pretty useful.

I’m not aware that he entered the room and before I punch the bag with my elbow, I feel his callused hands grab my shoulders. They scratch against my skin.

“You’re rather early,” he says as I turn to face him.

“You told me to meet you here at thirty minutes after five,” I reply.

“And I consider this good timing,” he says. “Initiates usually use punching bags to practice throwing punches, but what’s a disadvantage is that the punching bag does not fight back.”

It does not take me long to guess what he’s saying. “You want me to fight _you_?”

“You are a fast learner, are you, Stiff?” he asks, smirking broadly.

“I have always been a fast learner,” I say. Hopefully it doesn’t give anything away to him. I remember Four warning me, that I should be careful around Eric. I guessed that there is an ulterior motive to this anyway.

“The purpose of this is going to have you identify an opponent’s moves,” he tells me. “You are free to hit me, though be warned: I have had two years of experience.”

It shouldn’t surprise me, though I would rather be beaten to a pulp by one of the other initiates then Eric. He has more experience than the rest of us.

When we both go on the platform, he takes out leather black straps and hands an few to me. “Padding. They used to use padding for fights during Dauntless initiation in the past before they started using bare knuckles,” he says as he wraps the straps around his knuckles.

I begin to pad my knuckles as well. “Where did you learn this, I wonder? I suppose that Erudite is very extensive on the history of the five factions.”

“I’m going to pretend that Four probably didn’t tell you about my faction of origin,” he replies, his eyes hard. I wonder why he doesn’t want his former faction brought up. Perhaps there is more to leaving a faction of origin.

We both get in position, and I copy the way he holds up his arms, protecting both my face and my abdomen. “Good. You actually might want to guard your abdomen as well. That needs as much protection as your face.”

He aims an punch at my jaw and I block it with my arm, stumbling a little from the force of it.

“That was not bad, now let’s see if I could block an punch from you,” he says.

 _He will_ , I think but I try to punch his nose, but he blocks it just before my padded knuckles meets the skin, and punches me in the eye. It would have been worse without the padding.

As the training fight goes on, he blocks more punches then I do and my reaction time isn’t as fast as his. It’s difficult to search for any weaknesses in combat skills. It’s like he has perfected his skill even after initiation.

When it’s clear that I’m exhausted and before I get too bruised up, he stops the training session and gives me a bottle of water.

“Your reaction time could use improvement, as for the force of your punches,” he says. “Not the best, but it will get there.”

“What was the purpose of this again? To beat me up?” I demand.

“It was to merely identify the movements of an opponent,” he answers. “Something you wouldn’t get with a punching bag.”

I hate to admit it, but I know he’s right. The punching bag is useful for practicing my punches on, but it won’t help me identify the threats from an opponent.

“I see,” I say.

“Today, you’ll practice with punching bags in the morning, and then you fight after lunch,” he tells me. “Remember to make your punches more forceful, and hopefully you’ll remember what you learned.”

I will not forget. Especially if I want to pass initiation.


	3. Chapter Three

            When I return to the dormitory, everyone is just getting up. I open my trunk and take out another pair of black clothes. Peter is sitting at his bed, loosening the shoelaces of his shoes, glancing at my bed every now and then.

            I keep my eyes on him as I go into the bathroom. Fortunately, the padding greatly reduced the severity of the punches, though my knuckles look red and have the imprint of the leather straps. I shower, careful that I don’t apply pressure on the day old bruises that I acquired from my fight with Edward. Once I feel clean, I change into a clean pair of black clothes, but when I come back to the dormitory, the word _Stiff_ is spray-painted in red on my bed sheet. The word is written again smaller along the bed frame, and again on my pillow. I thought I hear Molly laugh unpleasantly.

            I glance at Peter, my heart pounding with anger. I knew he was up to something when he kept glancing at my bed, and now he’s fluffing his pillow trying to act innocent.

            He looks over at my knuckles. “Did you get your knuckles caught in the chains holding up the punching bag, Stiff?”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I seethe, grabbing the corner of my bed sheet and yanking it away from the mattress.

            “It’s not my fault if you fail initiation,” he says. “Stiffs and Banjo-Strumming Softies often get cut, I heard.”

            I shake my head as I remove my pillowcase from the pillow. I will be imagining that I’m beating up Peter this morning when we practice on our punches this morning. At least he doesn’t know why my knuckles look chafed, that’s a plus.

            Al walks in, and I don’t even have to ask him to help me; he just walks over and strips bedding with me. I will scrub the bed frame later. Al carries the stack of sheets to the trashcan and together we walk to the dining hall.

            “Ignore him,” Al says. “He’s an idiot, and if you don’t get angry, he’ll stop eventually.”

            “Yeah, it’s easy for you to say,” I reply. “He’s not poking at you.”

            “Um, are you okay…you know, after…?” he asks.

            “I’m still sore, but it’s nothing severe,” I assure him.

            “I wish I ended up half-conscious like you did,” he says. “Now I’ll always be remembered as the first guy that knocked out someone out cold.”

            “There are worse ways to be remembered. At least they won’t antagonize you.”

            “There are better ways to be remembered too.” He nudges me with his elbow, smiling. “First jumper.”

            Hopefully, that’s all they’ll remember me as, and that word doesn’t spread about me taking lessons from Eric. I don’t want Al to feel bad.

            I clear my throat. “One of you had to get knocked out, you know. If it hadn’t been him, it would have been you.”

            “Still, I don’t want to do it again.” Al shakes his head, too many times, too fast. “I really don’t.”

            I wonder if Al really did receive Dauntless on his aptitude test. He would have fit in well with the Amity.

            We are among the first initiates to enter the dining hall, and it’s not long before Christina and Will join us.

            “Yeah, I’m going to imagine that I’m beating up Peter when we practice our punches,” I say, picking up a piece of toast. “That would help.”

            “As long as you don’t exert yourself too much,” says Will. “It would be a bad idea to fight while still exhausted.”

            But it would help with the force of my punches. That way my punches wouldn’t feel too soft.

            “Creepy instructor alert,” says Christina, looking over my shoulder.

            “Is someone behind me?” I ask.

            “No, but he is looking at the direction at our table,” she replies. I turn my shoulder and see that Eric is at the end of the food line. He glances at my direction as he walks towards a table. When he sits down, I slouch.

            “What was that about?” asks Christina.

            “I don’t have any idea,” I answer, turning back towards my friends. I don’t want to even know why Eric was looking at my direction. It makes my skin crawl, to be honest.

            We then all go to the training room, where we meet Four. He gives us a refresher of what he told us the first time we were in here, only telling us, “Try not to exert yourselves, otherwise you wouldn’t have the energy for this afternoon.”

            I try to heed it, but whenever I punch, I fantasize that it’s Peter I’m beating up. The anger fuels the force of my punches, and the bag sways almost violently as a result. Before I could kick the bag, I feel a hand on my shoulder and see that it’s Four.

            “You need to take it easy,” he says.

            “I am,” I pant, before proceeding to kick and punch the bag with strong force.

A minute later, he says, “Come outside with me. I think that you could use a break.”

I don’t want to, but he’s my instructor, so I have to listen. I punch the bag one more time before following him out of the training room. Once outside, I sit against the wall and take deep breaths.

“I have never seen you punch that hard before and this is just the third day of training,” he notes, sitting next to me. “Obviously there is something that angers you.”

I gulp. Not telling him would be cowardly. “Peter vandalized my bed frame and bed sheets this morning.”

“And you didn’t report him?” asks Four.

“I thought he was just getting a rise out of me, and I didn’t want to give him that satisfaction,” I answer.

“You are supposed to report him if it happens, otherwise he will do it again,” he says.

“He might do worse if I did,” I point out.

Four considers this for a moment before he nods, like he agrees. “I’ll make sure that you get new sheets. Otherwise, don’t exert yourself.”

 

* * *

 

Lunch passed by as normal and when it was time to go back to the training room, my stomach turns into a knot. I might or might not fight today. If I do, Eric might pair me with someone more difficult to fight.

I look at the chalkboard when we file in the room. When I see my name, I feel my eyes widen.

My opponent is Al.

We both glance at each other, wide-eyed. No, I don’t want to fight Al. He did knock Will out cold yesterday, but he expressed this morning that he didn’t want to knock someone out cold.

“I’m just going to take a few hits from you and pretend to go unconscious,” he whispers to me. “I’m not going to even block punches.”

Even if I tell him not to, he still won’t listen. I doubt Eric will be even happy when he finds out that it was rather an easy fight. More likely he’ll be more upset with Al for contributing to it.

I stand at the side of the room, half listening to Al and Christina’s chatter, and watch Peter fight Edward. By observation, they are both good fighters, only that Edward is smarter and faster than Peter. Seeing Peter fight Edward makes me relieved that I’m paired against Al. I would rather be beaten by a friend then by someone who hates me. Peter wouldn’t give me a chance to defend myself.

They take longer, but Edward is able to knock the wind out of him, making him the winner. Then it’s Drew and Myra, Edward’s girlfriend. I heard that she didn’t fight yesterday, and I cringe throughout this match. It’s obvious that she didn’t receive aptitude for Dauntless, and that she only joined Dauntless to follow Edward. She belongs in a library behind a book or a computer, not in a fighting ring. Caleb could help her with her initiation work, or whatever they require for Erudite initiation.

Just thinking about Caleb stings; as much as it hurts me that he chose the faction we were raised to hate, I envy him. Because he’s reading a book instead of worrying that he’s going to fight the person who doesn’t like him. I’m sure he has problems with the initiates there as well, due to his Abnegation background.

It doesn’t take long for Drew to knock Myra out cold, and she lies on the platform black and blue.

“Next up – Al and Tris!” Eric announces. Al and I exchange looks, knowing that there is nothing we can do about this, before ascending to the platform. Al is at least a few inches taller than me, and if it weren’t for his desire to lose, I wouldn’t have a chance against him.

We both position ourselves. I space my arms to protect both my face and my abdomen. We circle each other for a few minutes before I send a punch to his jaw. His reaction time is slow and I hit him, or it was on purpose.

I hit him in the eye. He doesn’t block it. He doesn’t block the punch I send to his nose either. After kicking him in the abdomen, he crumbles on the floor and stays there, not moving.

I hear mutters in the room as I try to prod Al with my toes. He blinks, appearing dazed.

“That’s enough,” I hear Eric say, and I see that he is giving Al a very disappointed look. “Get him out of here.”

Eric is disappointed because yesterday, Al showed physical potential as an initiate. He’ll give Al a hard time now.

Four circles my name. “Last fight to go – Will and Christina!” shouts Eric.

I watch as Edward and Four take Al by the shoulders and watch as they take him from the room. I stand where my friends stood, watching as Will and Christina go up the platform.

They both look pretty confident, and there is a little disparity between them, though Will is the better fighter then Christina is. The fight ends with Will as the winner and after Four takes her from the room, Eric has us stay over for an announcement.

“Tomorrow morning, Four will take you out to the fence to learn about careers, careers that you’ll only get if you don’t get cut. Remember, when you return from your field trip to stop by the leaders’ offices in the Pire to get an pamphlet for information on job opportunities here. As I said, only the top five initiates are eligible for the best professions. Commit any violations, like attacking another initiate, will result in your opportunities becoming limited.”

Should they cut them instead of limiting job opportunities? That’s what I would do.

“Pass this along to your fellow initiates, and tomorrow after you receive your pamphlets, you have the rest of tomorrow to yourselves,” he continues. “Stay out of the training rooms because the Dauntless-born initiates will be using the rooms for training.”

It’s obvious that they don’t even need to learn about job opportunities, since they probably know already about this stuff.

Eric releases us for the day, but he has me stay behind. I lean against the wall, looking at my feet as some of the other initiates leave the room and when the door closes, I unwillingly look up at Eric, who’s walking towards me.

“I didn’t know that Al would give up that easy,” says Eric. “Especially if he showed great potential yesterday, but that’s not I want to talk about.”

“Then what?” I demand.

“Dauntless initiation is a competitive affair,” Eric replies, “and if one of the initiates vandalized your bed, you need to watch your back.”

“How would you know?” I ask.

“Four decided to report the incident after you told him this morning,” he answers. “I don’t understand why you didn’t report this to me yourself or just smacked Peter in the head with your pillow.”

“I just didn’t want to give Peter the satisfaction that he got to me,” I say, feeling the blood rush to my face. “Besides, why would you care, especially if you want me and my fellow initiates fight until one of us became unconscious?”

I expect him to explode, to reprimand me for my insubordination, that it wasn’t my place talk to him like that. Instead, he just looks stern. “Doing nothing will only make him think that he can walk over you and that’s what a coward does.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” I ask.

“Give him some verbal beatings and if you feel like you have the ability, physically show him that you’re not his doormat.”

“What if he hits me first?”

            “Try to hit him _harder_.”

            I will, if Peter makes him angry beyond belief. What’s stranger is that Eric is encouraging that I stand up for myself, when Four hinted that Eric wouldn’t care for an initiate that might have no chance passing the first stage of initiation on her own, an initiate like me.

            Perhaps he is not easy to read like I thought. Those originating from Erudite are probably very complex in nature.

            When Eric releases me, I decide to go find the infirmary, so I can check on Christina and Al.

 

* * *

 

            Fortunately, Al didn’t have hard feelings about me winning, mainly because he didn’t want to knock me out cold.

            “You had to win after you lost your fight with Edward yesterday,” he said, “and it wouldn’t be fair if I knocked you out cold.”

            I didn’t tell him that he is what Eric calls people who do nothing when being harassed and pounded on – a doormat. Anyone who doesn’t want to show aggression belongs in Amity. Al belongs in the fields and orchards outside the fence, not a training room that smells like dust and sweat.

           

* * *

 

            There is no fighting today, though I still wake up around five to get ready for that dreaded private training session. Traveling through the corridors, I hope that he would actually not show up at the training room; that he would see it as pointless.

            Though most likely, that thought is in vain. When I enter the training room, I see that Eric is already there. He’s already holding the leather straps that will be used to pad our knuckles to make the injuries less severe.

            “One thing we need to work on is your reaction time when it comes to threats from an opponent,” he says. “Also, let’s see if you can catch me off guard this time.”

            It will be difficult, and in the first few minutes, it’s difficult to take him by surprise. However, overtime, I begin to quickly deflect his punches, though I doubt that my reaction time is not up to the desired pace.

            “You’re improving, but it was more like an dance of blocking punches,” he tells me when we’re done. “You got to work on determining which moves your opponents might make, that way you can make the first move on them.”

            “If this goes on forever, and I don’t learn anything, I’m bound to get cut,” I tell him.

            “Having one on one training is better than having it all down at the last minute,” he replies.

            “Even if I do, the initiates that don’t like me are going to become suspicious of my sudden increase of skill.” I look at him in the eye. “I only told two of my friends that you are training me to exhaustion as punishment.”

            “Then I will tell them the same if anyone asks any questions about your rank,” he replies. “They are less likely to become jealous if they think it was what you told your friends.”

            “Yeah, but they think that because I’m Abnegation, I’m bound to fail initiation,” I say. “I’m sure Tobias Eaton didn’t do well.”

            “Oh, he did,” says Eric. “He beat me in a fight.”

            “You know him?” I ask.

            “He was in the same initiation class,” he says. “You wouldn’t think he was Abnegation due to his behavior.”

            “What do you mean?” I ask.

            “I’ m sure you’ll be able to guess who he is,” Eric replies. “You probably saw him here a few times, and if I guess correctly, he would brush off the question of being an faction transfer.”

            Four did just that the first night.

            “But that couldn’t mean that Four is Tobias Eaton,” I say. “He wouldn’t be calling me a Stiff if he was Abnegation.”

            “It would be his way of him not wanting to disclose his identity, though he’ll still show bias towards initiates from Amity and Abnegation,” says Eric.

            Maybe Four and Tobias are the same person or it could just be Eric playing with my mind. However, that doesn’t seem illogical if Four wouldn’t say if he transferred or was an Dauntless-born.

 

* * *

 

            “Four!” I shout when I manage to get behind him in the breakfast line.

            He looks at me from the corner of his eyes before picking up toast with a set of tongs. “Don’t make this long, Stiff.”

            I glare at him as I use a long handled spoon to put scrambled eggs on my plate. “Do you know Tobias Eaton?”

            He drops the tongs and looks at me, still stern. “Yes, I knew him. Why would you ask?”

            “You said that Eric was in the same initiation class as you and this morning, Eric told me that Tobias –”

            He looks over his shoulder and his eyes narrow. “What else did you tell her?”

            I look behind me and see that Eric is behind us, carrying a tray. “I have the right to tell her anything, golden boy.” Eric smirks. “You two better not linger, or else you’ll stall the line.”

            Four glares at him before turning his face and he spits on the ground, then he walks away. I turn to Eric. “Was that really necessary?”

            “We’ve been rivals ever since our initiation two years ago, so it’s nothing new,” Eric replies.

            I pick up a piece of toast and select a packet of blueberry jam. “What did he do to you, anyway?”

            “Nothing. I’m just proving every day that I’m better then he is.” Eric lifts one shoulder.

            I pick up a sausage English muffin sandwich and scowl at him before leaving the breakfast line and I drop into a seat next to Al.

           

* * *

 

            The trip to the fence didn’t take long: only that those who weren’t ranked in the top five of the ten will expect to find themselves guarding the fence, and that there is just an little room for climbing the career ladder. The top five are eligible for leadership and training initiates, which is a seasonal job.

            Upon arrival back to the compound, we are directed to the glass building above the Pit – which I hear they coin the “Pire” and go to the tenth floor, which the leaders’ offices are located in an long narrow hallway and adjoined is an conference room, which we are led to.

            Waiting for us is a Dauntless woman who has to be in her mid-thirties. Her black hair has red tips at the end and both her eyebrows are pierced three times and she has the same tattoo that Eric has on his neck. She studies us with critical eyes as we enter.

            “My name is Veronica, and I’m one of the five Dauntless leaders,” she introduces. “I’m sure you both met Max and Eric by now, but I’ll be overseeing your job selections the day after the initiation ceremony. That is, if most of you pass initiation.”

            She picks up a white sheet of paper. It has a list of professions on it.

            “Each one of you will get a form that will be personalized. The higher your rank, the more options you have, unless you commit violations during initiation,” she says. “For those ranked from first to fifth, you have the option of applying for leader-in-training, an adjutant for the leaders, which means you help us make informed decisions, and finally, faction representative. Here, a representative is not a faction leader like it is in Erudite, but they their job is to bring up issues with other factions. If you don’t prefer a desirable position, there is the control room, technical support, tattoo art, and guarding the fence.”

            I thought I hear Peter and Molly chuckle and whisper and the only words I could make up was “toilets” and “factionless.” I will not become factionless and spend the rest of my life cleaning toilets.

            She holds out a pamphlet that has the Dauntless symbol on it. “I recommend that you take one of these and read it, therefore gaining an understanding of the jobs we offer.”

 

* * *

 

            I sit by the railing of the chasm, hearing the thunderous rush of water behind me as I look at my pamphlet. Christina, Will, and Al are at lunch and I told them that I wasn’t hungry. Looking over at the pamphlet, I know that if I am ranked in the top five, I’ll be eligible for being a Dauntless representative. It will work being a faction transfer.

            I could work for the leaders, but it won’t take long to be discovered for being a Divergent. I will not become factionless.

            “Are you going to get wet?” I hear Eric ask me.

            I look up at him, seeing him standing before me, his fingertips in his pockets.

            “No, I’m not too close to get wet,” I answer.

            “Then why aren’t you with your friends?” he asks. That question is curious in nature.

            “I just want some space to think, that’s all. It’s just this job thing is still in my mind.”

            “Aah.” I look down at my pamphlet, expecting to hear his footsteps indicating his departure. I don’t.

            “Come with me. It’s not good for a new initiate like you to sit by the chasm by yourself,” he tells me. I want to assert that I can take care of myself, though I know he has a point.

            I sigh as I pick up my pamphlet and stand on my feet before following him to the stairs leading up to the Pire. When we both go into the elevator, I’m starting to rethink this. What if this a bad idea to go with him? What are Christina and Will going to think when they see me gone?

            The door slides open at the third floor and I follow him out the elevator. Unlike the floor I have been in with the other transfers, I see that plaster and wood is obscuring the views inside the glass and there are black wooden doors, each spaced apart. Apartments.

            Eric takes out an set of keys from his pocket and stops at an door labeled _B12_. He unlocks the door, turns the doorknob, and opens the door. With great hesitation, I follow him into his apartment.

            The living room and the kitchen are joined together, though the counter and a half wall create a divide. In the living room are two chairs and an sofa surrounding an polished, wooden coffee table. There at least two medium bookshelves against the wall and ahead of me, is an short hallway containing only two doors which are adjacent from each other; probably leading to an bathroom and an bedroom.

            “If you decide to apply for a government job, you are more likely to get an apartment up here,” he says. “Not every apartment is the same.”

            “I see,” I say, looking at the bookshelves in the room. Factions often trade goods with each other, though Abnegation’s only trading relations are with Amity because they only trade basics. Nothing too extravagant. It shouldn’t surprise me that Eric will still own books, being Erudite once. I wonder how many of these books were from Erudite, and I hate to think about it.

            “Are you hungry?” he asks. I hear him step into his kitchen.

            “No,” I answer, feeling my stomach rumble. I don’t want to eat anything given by Eric. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth that he took me to his apartment.

            “You must be,” he says. “It’s not healthy to skip a meal.”

            I groan and shuffle into the kitchen. I will like it if I was anywhere but here. I sit at the kitchen table and put my head down as I watch him move around in the kitchen, paying attention in case he does anything suspicious.

            Making me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and preparing a glass of white grape juice shouldn’t be suspicious in nature. He puts the glass and plate in front of me.

            “Go ahead and eat,” he says. I cautiously pick up one half of the sandwich and at first I nibble on it. It doesn’t taste strange.

            “What is in that mind of yours?” he asks.

            “I’m just trying to think about getting through stage one,” I tell him.

            “You will,” he says. “If you learn thoroughly enough, you could end up with a four by the end of stage one.”

            “Peter and his lackeys think I might get cut and clean toilets while factionless,” I reply sardonically.

            Eric’s eyes harden. “Well, they are idiots for not acknowledging that Stiffs can adapt to their environment. I’m not going to lie. Drew and Molly are physical assets; however, I doubt that they’ll even make it after stage three.”

            “How would you know?” I ask as Eric leaves his seat.

            “Molly shot herself in the foot with that unfinished outburst after I announced that those not ranked in the top ten will become factionless. A true Dauntless doesn’t fear what initiation will bring.” He goes over to his bookshelf and pulls out an book. When he gets closer, I see that it’s titled _A Guide to Self-Defense_.

            “You will still meet me at the training room tomorrow morning, but this contains information that will become vital,” he says. With caution, I take the book from his hands and look at the cover. I only read books for school and to read one outside of that purpose is considered self-indulgent. However, it wouldn’t hurt to learn about fighting techniques.

            “Do you really want me to pass stage one or what are your motives?” I ask.

            “I’m going to be honest,” he says. “I had my doubts about your potential until I saw your determination in your face when you first pounded on a punching bag.”


	4. Chapter Four

I crawl across my mattress and heave an sigh. My body feels sore – both from sparring with Eric this morning and for sparring with Molly this afternoon. With Eric, at least he gave me an few chances to defend myself, furthering improving my reaction time to his punches in the process. With Molly, I thought I was going to lose until I spotted an weakness in her fighting techniques: she doesn’t guard her abdomen.

            Now that’s two fights that I have won and let’s just say that it’s a miracle that Peter hasn’t discovered the real reason why I’m improving. No one knows about the book that’s hidden under the clothes in my chest.

            The second I touch my head to the pillow, the door to the dormitory opens, and people stream into the room with flashlights. I sit up and squint through the dark to see what’s going on.

            “Everybody up!” someone roars. A flashlight shines behind his head, making the microdermals above his right eyebrow glint. Eric. Surrounding him are other Dauntless, some of whom I have seen in the Pit, some of whom I have never seen before. Four stands among them.

            His eyes shift to mine and stay there. However, I decide to get up with the other transfers.

            “You have five minutes to get dressed and meet us by the tracks,” says Eric. “We’re going on another field trip.”

            I shove my feet into shoes and sprint, wincing, behind Christina on the way to the train. A drop of sweat rolls down the back of my neck as we run up the paths along the walls of the Pit, pushing past members on our way up. They don’t seem surprised to see us. I wonder how many frantic, running people they see on a weekly basis.

            We make to the tracks just behind the Dauntless-born initiates. Next to the tracks is a black pile. I make out a cluster of long gun barrels and trigger guards.

            “Are we going to _shoot_ something?” Christina hisses in my ear.

            Next to the pile are boxes of what looks like ammunition. I inch closer to read one of the boxes. Written on it is “PAINTBALLS.”

I’ve never heard of them before, but the name is self-explanatory. I laugh.

“Everyone grab a gun!” shouts Eric.

We rush toward the pile. I am the closest to it, so I snatch the first rifle I can find, which is heavy but feels artificial to be a real rifle, and grab a box of paintballs. I place the box in one of my pockets before strapping the gun to my back.

“Time estimate?” Eric asks Four.

            Four checks his watch. “Any time now. How long is it going to take you to memorize the train schedule?”

“Why should I, when I have you to remind me of it?” says Eric, shoving Four’s shoulder.

A circle of light appears on my left, far away. It grows larger as it comes closer. Four is the first to get on the train, then its Eric’s turn. I find myself running after Eric, not waiting for Christina or Will or Al to follow me. Four, who’s already in the train, turns around as I fall into stride and holds out a hand. I grab his arm and he pulls me in.

I let go quickly, and as I turn to sit at the other side of the car, I see Eric give Four a poisonous look. I don’t know what his problem was, but something tells me that it has to do with Four helping me into the train. For what reason, I do not know.

Once everyone is in, Four speaks up.

“We’ll be dividing into two teams to play capture the flag. Each team will have an even mix of Dauntless-born initiates, and transfers. One team will get off first and find a place to hide their flag. Then the second team will get off and do the same.” The car sways, and Four grabs the side of the doorway for balance. “This is Dauntless tradition, so I suggest you take it seriously.”

“What do we get if we win?” someone shouts.

“Sounds like the kind of question someone not from Dauntless should ask,” says Four, raising an eyebrow. “You get to win of course.”

“Four and I will be your team captains,” says Eric. He looks at Four. “Let’s divide up the transfers first, shall we?”

I tilt my head back. If they’re picking us, I will be chosen last; I can feel it.

“You go first,” says Four.

Eric shrugs and glances between Edward, Peter, and I. “The Stiff.”

A faint undercurrent of laughter fills the car. Heat rushes to my cheeks. I don’t know whether to be angry at the people laughing at me or flattered by the fact that he chose me first.

Four looks at him strangely. “Don’t you choose the muscular initiates first?”

“There are many reasons for my decisions and unfortunately, it’s not your business,” says Eric. “Go on.”

“Christina,” says Four, through gritted teeth.

“Edward.”

“Will,” says Four, biting his thumbnail.

“Peter.”

I groan. Why do I have to be in the same team as him of all people?

“Drew.”

“Molly.”

“Myra.”

“Last one is Al. So he’s with me,” says Eric. That’s a relief that I have at least one friend on the same team as me. “Dauntless-born initiates left.”

I stop listening once they’re finished with us. Once we’re halfway through the Dauntless-born initiates, I notice a pattern with both teams. Everyone on Four’s team, with the exception of Will and a couple others have small frames and narrow shoulders. Our team – Eric’s team – are broad and strong, with only two exceptions: me and an short Dauntless-born girl with purple hair. I have an aching feeling that Four’s team will be faster than ours. I haven’t played before, but I know it’s a game of speed rather than brute force. I lean my head against the wall. This is going to be a long night.

They finish choosing teams, and Eric smirks at Four.

“Your team can get off second,” says Eric.

“Don’t do me any favors,” Four replies. He smiles a little. “You know I don’t need them to win.”

_Then what?_

“No, I know you’ll lose no matter when you get off,” says Eric, biting his lip. “Take your scrawny team and get off first, then.”

I watch as Four’s team stands up. Christina gives me a sympathetic look before glaring at both Peter and Molly. I know that she doesn’t like me being in Eric’s team with Peter and Molly and I smile back in what I hope is reassuring. At least I have Al with me.

I feel the train dip into the ground and I watch as Four’s team jumps off. The train rises from the ground and I jolt back, the back of my head hitting the steel wall of the car.

“Listen up!” Eric moves to where Four previously stood and faces us. “In a few seconds we will jump off. Transfers, keep your hands to yourselves when you jump off.”

We all stand up and before I approach the door, someone pushes me forward and I stagger, bumping into Edward. I hear a few laughs.

“Also, I didn’t select her to be a punching bag,” says Eric, and I see him looking at Peter, who’s trying to look innocent. Eric glares at him before jumping off. Before Peter can push me again, I jump off the car and I stagger slightly when my feet touch the ground. At least I didn’t land on my stomach.

“Clumsy, Stiff?” says Molly. She pushes me to the ground, inciting a few laughs from the team.

“Leave her alone!” shouts Al, his face red.

I stand up, and walk past her and Peter, bumping into both their shoulders before they could stop me.

“Come on, we’re just playing around,” says Peter as I stand next to Al. “You are too _Stiff_ to take a joke.”

He and Molly both laugh, and a Dauntless-born girl with a partially-shaven head slams her hands into her face and I hear her mutter, “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“Quiet!” Eric shouts, turning his attention to the team, who are all looking at him. “We’re wasting time, and we’ll lose if you continue acting like Lower Level children.” He turns to me. “Stiff, come stand with me.”

Heat flushes my cheeks as I walk towards him. I feel humiliated with him signaling me out like this, but my gut tells me that he’s doing me a favor by separating me from Molly and Peter. I was told to trust my gut, for more likely it’s true.

If it is true, then I’m grateful for it.

“Follow me,” says Eric and we begin to walk. Al catches up with me, but stays a few footsteps behind; most likely because I’m standing next to Eric.

No one says anything as we walk west.

“Are we close to your old stomping grounds?” I hear someone ask.

I don’t know if the question is directed at either Edward or Eric, but it’s Eric that answers. “Keep quiet, Gabe. We can’t afford any problems.”

“I didn’t know you were once Erudite,” I hear Peter say, sounding impressed.

Eric looks over his shoulder. “Hopefully that’s the last thing that you say to my face tonight, or I’ll do a number on your face.”

I hear some mutters from behind me in response. I don’t understand why Eric doesn’t want people to bring up his Erudite background. It’s nothing to be ashamed about, at least in Dauntless standards. It’s not like he’s Abnegation. I guess things can’t be explained easily like I thought.

We walk through the dilapidated city landscape, which feels like a nightmare, since the silence of it is eerie. It’s hard to see where I’m going, because it’s after midnight and all the city lights are off.

I stumble on what feels like a piece of rock and I feel someone catch me before I’m steadied on my feet. I knew it had to be Eric because he’s closest.

“Thanks,” I mutter, looking sideways at him.

He nods a little, acknowledging what I said. The buildings end when we enter what looks like a park. Far off in a distance, I see a sphere, but we’re too far to see what it clearly is.

“What are the odds of one of us getting pushed into the marsh?” asks someone out loud.

“Give me a break, Jackson” I hear the first Dauntless girl say in exasperation. “It will take us all night to get you out of there.”

“How about one of the transfers?” asks a second person. “They won’t even notice.”

“Okay, enough with the bantering,” I hear Eric say before he turns around. We all crowd around him, eager what he has to say. Eric takes out the flag from one of his bottom pockets. It’s luminous and I see it change from yellow to orange. “Okay, initiates, listen up! By now the other team is beginning to formulate their strategy and we only have six minutes, and I highly recommend that you don’t waste those minutes. Strategic thinking is not limited to the Erudite, just so you know.”

I can concede that he’s right, as it will be useless to play this game without a plan.

Edward takes the flag from Eric’s hand. “We should have someone scout where the other team is, that way we know what we’re doing.”

“No one asked you to be in charge, transfer,” says the Dauntless-born girl with the partially shaven head, giving him the stink-eye, snatching the flag from Edward’s hand.

“Looking everywhere will mean that we will lose.”

“Why won’t we wait for them to come to us?” suggests Molly. “It will be easy to take them out.”

“That’s completely stupid,” says Peter. “I agree that we should have someone scout for the other team, that way we can take them out without hassle.”

“That’s a plan,” says Eric. “We need someone lightweight to climb a tree to scout their location.”

“Not me,” says the Dauntless-born girl with light purple hair. “My arm is still broken after that fight with Gabe.”

I thought I see Eric glance at my direction and it’s not long before all eyes are on me. I know what that means: they want me to find the other team.

“Right,” I say. “I’ll scout their whereabouts.”

I look around for something high enough to climb on until I spot the highest tree I can find. It’s not too high, but just high enough so that I can get a vantage point. I run towards the tree, the blood pounding in my ears.

One of my early memories is me climbing trees in the Amity compound outside the city, when my family would make visits to help harvest their fruits and vegetables. I put my first foot on the roots and sink my fingers into the crevices of the bark. It’s a challenge at first since I have to rely on the crevices and the stumps to keep myself up but when my hand touches the first branch, I’m not on the verge of falling.

“I’m surprised you haven’t fell yet,” I hear Eric say as my feet on the first branch. I can hear him starting to climb from the other side of the tree.

“I have some experience,” I answer, putting my foot on the next branch. “Besides, falling would only give Peter and Molly satisfaction.”

“Possessing some experience is better than none,” he says.

The branches get thinner as I go higher, so I don’t linger too long. Once I’m on the top of the tree, I’m handed a telescope. My best guess is that Eric brought it along in case the flag was covertly hidden.

I look through it. From what I see, there is some activity from ahead. My eyes linger around the surroundings, drifting from the Ferris wheel to the carousel, where I see something. It’s bright and hanging from the rafters of it.

“I think I found it,” I say, and I feel someone take the telescope from my hand. Eric probably joined me up here without me noticing. He looks around with the telescope, before smirking broadly.

“Four is clever,” he says, collapsing the telescope. “He hid his flag well, but a telescope would be able to give a view of it. It’s at the other end of the pier.”

“Got it,” I say, and cautiously I start climbing down. A branch breaks off from under one of my feet but I hastily go down before I fall. Once I’m from a safe distance to the ground, I jump off from the tree; Eric follows a few seconds later.

A few of the initiates – Peter among them – are clustered under a tree, where the flag now hangs. The others sit on the ground. Everyone’s head snaps to our direction when they see us.

“Alright. The other team is at the carousel by the Ferris wheel at the end of the pier,” says Eric.

“What should the strategy be?” asks an Dauntless-born girl with orange streaks in her brown hair.

Peter opens his mouth but Eric raises his hand to stop him.

“I think that should go the Stiff,” says Eric. “She spotted them first.”

Slowly, the eyes of the initiates, including Al, turn to me. I tense my shoulders, about to shrug and say I don’t know, and then an image of the pier stretching out beneath me comes into mind. I have an idea.

“Split in three groups,” I say. “Three of us go to the right side of the pier, five to the left, and four will stay here and guard the flag. We all know that the other team is by the carousel at the other side of the pier, so the group of five will charge as the group of three sneaks behind the other team to get the flag.”

Molly’s smirk turns into a dumbstruck expression. She was most likely expecting me to chicken out. Peter looks at me before he hits his face repeatedly with the back of his palm before shaking his face, like he’s trying to wake up. Al’s jaw practically dropped.

“Sounds excellent,” says Eric, clapping his hands together. “Let’s surprise them and light them up, shall we?”

I’m in the group of three with Peter and the first Dauntless girl that spoke, who I heard was named Lynn. It wasn’t my choice, as Eric assigned the groups. I’m the first to run, though I notice that just because Eric picked broad and strong initiates, that doesn’t mean that they are slow.

I have to run twice as fast to keep up with the two of them. As I’m run, I realize that only one of us will get to touch the flag, and it won’t matter that it was my plan and my information that got us to it if I’m not the one that grabs it. I pull my gun around my body, holding my finger over the trigger.

We reach the other end of the pier and we weave around the obstacles, trying to keep quiet and I look for the light again. Now that I’m the ground, it’s bigger and easier to see. I point and I lead the way toward it.

Then I hear a chorus of yells, so loud they make me jump. I hear puffs of air as paintballs go flying and splats as they find their targets. Our team has charged, the other team runs to meet us, and the flag is almost unguarded. Peter takes aim and shoots Christina in the side. Christina aims and shoots at his nose and I have to keep myself from laughing.

I sprint towards the carousel, the same pace as Lynn. I jump on the platform and get on one of the chipped horses, snatching the flag in the process and I feel an yell of victory tear from my lungs. A few voices join mine and I hear a chorus of yells in the distance.

I hold up the flag, running towards my team as they surround me. The shouts of triumph become infectious that I barely notice that someone holds up my hand to hold up the flag higher.

 

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe that you were on Eric’s team instead of ours,” Will says again, shaking his head. Wind coming through the doorway of the train car blows his hair at every direction.

“I doubt that they were arguing about strategy for the first five minutes,” says Christina. “Hopefully, Peter and his friends didn’t give you too much of a hard time.”

“It would be hard with me standing next to Eric on the way to our location,” I say.

“Can I see the flag again?” asks Al.

Peter, Molly, and Drew sit across the members in the corner. Their chests and backs are splattered with blue and pink paint, and they look dejected. They speak quietly, sneaking looks at me. I guess that it would be better if I wasn’t the one that caught the flag. They probably hate me more than ever.

I would have to watch myself now.

Lynn walks over to us and with her is an dark-skinned Dauntless boy and an mousy haired Dauntless girl.

“We keep hearing Eric bragging about how he won his team,” says the Dauntless boy, “and we asked Lynn to see what the fuss is about.”

“I’m not one to brag,” I say. “It was his idea that I scout where the team was.”

“Though it was your idea that we split into three groups,” says Lynn dryly.

“You’re the first jumper, right?” the other Dauntless girl asks. “The first jumper always sticks in the back of your mind.”

I nod. “My name is Tris.”

“I’m Marlene,” she introduces, shaking my hand before gesturing to the boy sitting next to her, “and this is Uriah.”

“We could have used you on our team, with brains like yours,” says Uriah, “or else Eric wouldn’t be strutting around like a peacock.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I would rather have him strutting like a peacock then watching initiates squirm.”

“Doesn’t anybody,” says Lynn dryly. “I wish I could have swapped teams. I was scowling at the back of his head the entire time.”

“I was wondering where you were, Lynn,” says Uriah. “I thought that Four didn’t think that you fast enough.”

She elbows him in the ribs, though she smiles.

It’s three in the morning, but it’s still dark outside. Not too much time for sleep. Though I’m still feeling nostalgic, I feel the onset of fatigue and decide to rest my back against the stone wall, allowing for my fellow initiates to walk past.

A hand touches my shoulder and I look to see that it is Eric.

“You did great back there,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say, stifling a yawn.

“We’re not going to practice this morning,” he says, “since you need your rest. Though we’ll meet in the afternoon.”

“Yeah,” I reply, lifting myself from the wall. I should really get to bed.

“If this makes you comfortable, it’s that you proved yourself tonight,” he says.

I did, but it made me become a threat to those that don’t like me, and hopefully, I survive initiation unscathed.

 

 


	5. Chapter Five

            I close my eyes as soon as my head touches the pillow, but I wake up as soon as the alarm sounds. Quickly, I shower and get dressed before going to the cafeteria with Christina, Will, and Al.

            Though I’m still worn from fatigue, the loud conversation in the dining room helps me wake up an bit.

            “If only we could have a day off today,” says Al wistfully. “I could use the rest.”

            “Well, we don’t, since it seems that Eric is hell bent on us to suffer from exhaustion,” Christina replies.

            “Have you tried taking a cold shower?” asks Will. “It will wake you up.”

            I have indeed taken a cold shower once two years ago, per suggestion by Caleb, when I complained of being too tired. He told me it would increase my alertness and mood. He probably read that somewhere when no one was looking; from a pamphlet no doubt.

            I’m still yawning when we trudge into the training room. I see that a large target stands at one end of the room, and next to the door is a table with knives strewn across it. Target practice again. I wonder what the purpose of throwing knives is.

            Eric, who’s slouching against a wall, straightens his posture and approaches when he sees us. “Tomorrow will be the last day of stage one,” Eric says. You will resume fighting then. If you want to know why you’re not using firearms today, there will be a time where you’ll only have a knife with you during a life-threatening situation, and you’ll be in bad shape if you don’t know how to throw one.”

            That makes sense now. We can’t be limited to just hand-to-hand combat and firearms. However, Four looks at Eric like he begs to differ.

            “Everyone pick up three knives,” Eric continues. “And pay attention while Four demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them.”

            At first, it’s just me that moves. It’s mainly because I don’t want to do anything that would test his patience. They are not as heavy as the gun, but they still feel strange in my hands.

            When I pick up my last knife, I hear Eric say, “I find it funny that the girl from Abnegation has better alertness and comprehension. The rest of you, now!”

            I jump to the side as the others scramble for daggers, and I put two of the knives in one of the panels on the side of my pants. Christina, who’s closest to me, turns to me and whispers, “Looks like he’s still gloating over winning last night.”

            “I would rather have him gloating then sulking,” I point out.

            But I know what she means. Judging by the triumphant smirk Eric gives Four whenever they look at each other, last night’s win must have swollen his pride a little, and winning capture the flag is a matter of pride, and pride is more important to the Dauntless than reason or sense.

            Then again, isn’t pride the weakness of two of the five factions? Or is it more than two?

            Looking over at Four, I notice that losing last night doesn’t faze him one bit.

            I watch Four’s arm as he throws a knife. The next time he throws, I watch his stance. He hits the target each time, exhaling as he releases the knife.

            Eric orders, “Line up!”

            This should take time, as does learning anything. I have to think of this as a mental exercise instead of an physical one. So I spend the first few minutes practicing without the knife, finding the right stance, learning the right arm motion.

            Eric paces too quickly behind us, though he lingers behind me when he passes me the third time. He doesn’t seem irritated by me just moving my arm.

            “That’s it. Just take your time,” he tells me.

            “I think the Stiff is too groggy to even know what a knife is,” Peter remarks, a few people down.

            _Don’t ignore him_ , I remind myself before thinking of a perfect comeback, and I do. “I think you’re too stupid to not recognize when someone is just practicing the moves.”

            Christina chuckles and says to Peter, who looks taken aback, “Someone just got roasted.”

            I thought I hear Eric chuckle as well. I take the knife from my pocket and I practice the movement with my knife before I throw the knife. It spins end over end, slamming into the board. The blade doesn’t stick, but I’m the first person to hit the target.

            “I said not to get cocky,” I hear Eric say, looking at where Peter stands before continuing to pace.

            A half hour later, Al is the only initiate who hasn’t hit the target yet. His knives clatter to the floor, or bounce up the wall. While the rest of us approach the board to collect our weapons, he hunts the floor for his. I anxiously look around the room, seeing that Eric and Four are standing an few feet behind the line of initiates, both of them holding an spare knife. Eric keeps turning and twiddling his, which unsettles me.

            I look back at Al, hoping that Eric doesn’t notice, but he does, because the next time Al hits and misses, Eric marches toward him and demands, “How slow _are_ you, Candor? Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you?”

            I avert my eyes, trying to mind my own business, though I can’t help but look at Al through my peripheral vision. Al’s face turns red. He throws another knife, and this one sails a few feet to the right of the target. It spins and hits the floor.

            “What was that, initiate?” says Eric quietly, leaning closer to Al.

            I bite my lip. This isn’t good.

            “It – it slipped,” says Al dejectedly.

“Well, I think you should go get it,” Eric says. He scans the other initiates’ faces – everyone has stopped throwing knives – and says, “Did I tell you to stop?”

The knives hit their targets again.

“Go get it?” Al’s eyes are wide. “But everyone’s still throwing.”

“And?”

“And I don’t want to get hit.”

“I think you can trust your fellow initiates to aim better than you,” says Eric, his smile not reaching his eyes, which are cruel. “Go get your knife.”

I have spent too much time with Eric that I almost forgotten about this side to him. I was letting down my guard after I visited his apartment an few days ago.

“No,” he says.

“Why not?” Eric’s eyes fix on Al’s face. “Are you afraid?”

“Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife?” says Al. “Yes I am!”

Honesty is his mistake. Not his refusal, which Eric might have accepted.

“Everybody stop!” Eric shouts.

The knives stop, and so does all conversation. I hold my small dagger slightly.

“Clear out of the ring.” Eric looks at Al. “All except you.”

I drop my dagger and it hits the dusty floor with an thud. I follow the other initiates to the edge of the room and I stand by Christina; I begin to bite my nails in apprehension at the scene.

“Stand in front of the target,” says Eric.

Al’s big hands shake. He walks back to the target.

“Hey, Four,” Eric looks over his shoulder. “Give me a hand here, huh?”

I thought I hear Four mutter something under his breath before he scratches one of his eyebrows with a knife point and approaches Eric. He looks tired just as we are. He probably doesn’t need this especially after we played capture the flag at midnight.

“You’re going to stand there as he throws those knives,” Eric says to Al, “until you learn not to flinch.”

Eric seemed sadistic to me due to his rule of “fighting until knocked unconscious”, not to mention he would watch the fights, but this is really pushing it.

“Is this really necessary?” asks Four. He sounds bored, but he doesn’t look bored. His face and body are tense, alert.

I scratch the back of my neck with my bitten fingernails. No matter how casual Four sounds, the question is a challenge. And Four doesn’t often challenge Eric directly.

At first Eric stares at Tobias in silence. Tobias stares back.

“I have the authority here, remember?” says Eric, so quietly that it almost sounds like a whisper. “Here, and everywhere else.”

Color rushes to Four’s face, though his expression does not change. His grip on the knives tightens and his knuckles turn white as he turns to face Al.

I look from Al’s wide, dark eyes to his shaken hands to the determined set of Four’s jaw to the malicious gleam in Eric’s eyes. Anger bubbles in my chest, and bursts from my mouth: “ _Stop_ it!”

Eric turns to my direction and looks at me with both surprise and condescension that I feel like I’m turning to stone. He’s never been stood up to before it seems, especially by an initiate. Four looks at me with an hard expression.

“Any idiot can stand in front of a target,” I say. “It doesn’t prove anything except that you’re bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of _cowardice_.”

I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t just risky; it was idiotic as well, since Eric is the only one with the authority in this room. I probably botched any chances of passing stage one coming to think of it.

“Then it should be easy for you,” Eric says, scratching the back of his neck. “If you’re willing to take his place.”

The last thing I want to do is stand in front of that target, but I can’t back down now. I didn’t leave myself the option. I weave through the crowd of initiates, and someone shoves my shoulder.

“There goes your pretty face,” Peter hisses. “Oh, wait. You don’t have one.”

“Shut up, or I’ll do it for you,” yells Eric as I recover my balance. He shouldn’t have done that, or else Peter will get the message that something is going on. I walk toward Al. He nods at me. I try to nod encouragingly, but I can’t manage it. I stand in front of the board, my head touching the target. I look at Four’s knives: one in his right hand, two in his left hand.

“If you flinch,” Four says, slow and carefully, “Al takes your place. Understand?”

I nod.

Four throws the first knife. The knife is buried in the board, half a foot away from my cheek.

“You about done, Stiff?” asks Four.

I remember Al’s wide eyes and his quiet sobs at night and shake my head. “No.”

“Eyes open, then.”

Four throws the second knife. This one strikes the target just above my skull.

“Come on, Stiff,” he says. “Let someone else stand there and take it.”

I can taste bile. If he’s actually Tobias Eaton, shouldn’t he be refraining from using that slang? I don’t want to be signaled out, but still, he shouldn’t use it if he was Abnegation.

“Shut up, Four!”

I hold my breath as he turns the last knife in his hand. I see a glint in his eyes as he pulls his arm back and lets the knife fly. It comes straight at me, spinning, blade over handle. My body goes rigid. This time, when it hits the board, my ear stings, and blood tickles my skin. I touch my ear. He nicked it.

And judging by the look he gives me, he did it on purpose.

“I would love to stay and see if the rest of you are as daring as she is,” says Eric, his voice smooth, “but I think that’s enough for today.”

He squeezes my shoulder, and though he smirks, his eyes scold me, like I shouldn’t have talked out of turn. I shouldn’t have done that anyway.

“Meet me after six,” he whispers in my ear. He pulls away and claps my shoulder before walking away. I don’t know whether to meet with him so we could train as usual or if he wants to reprimand me.

Four and I stay behind. I wait until the room is empty and the door is empty and the door is shut before looking at him again. He walks toward me.

“Is your – ” he begins.

“You did that on _purpose_!” I shout.

“Yes, I did,” he says quietly. “And you should thank me for helping you.”

I grit my teeth. “ _Thank_ you? You almost stabbed my ear, and you spent the entire time taunting me. Why should I thank you?”

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on!”

“And I thought you were honorable. You’re just like Eric!” I shout. “You like giving initiates a hard time and watching them squirm.”

“I’m nothing like Eric,” he says.

“Then why don’t you act _less_ like him and more like _yourself_!” I insist. “Are you trying to prove that you’re just as tough as him? There are ways to act tough without being sadistic about it.”

With that, I leave the training room before he could speak. All I need to do is just punch something, but the Dauntless-born are in the second training room right now.

As I turn around the corridor, I see Eric leaning against the stone wall. I expect to see a smirk on his face, but he looks apathetic. I stop and tense up as he approaches me. He puts his hand under my chin and turns my head to analyze my ear.

“It’s nothing serious, though you need some ice on that,” he says, removing his hand from my face and I turn to look at him. I feel the blood rush to the surface of my face.

“Why would you care?” I demand. “You wanted Al to be humiliated for your sadistic enjoyment.”

“I was just trying to put him in his place,” says Eric. “Now, if you don’t mind, follow me and I’ll give you ice for that ear.”

I watch as he walks away, and I look at him rather curiously. Why does he not scold me for challenging him? What makes me different that he wouldn’t scold or punish me?

However, I decide to follow him. Eric is very peculiar; there is no doubt about that.

 

* * *

 

I meet with my friends at the dining hall, holding the ice pack that Eric gave me. It’s cold, but at least my ear no longer stings. Christina, Al, and Will look at me as I sit down with them.

“What happened to your ear?” asks Al.

“Four nicked it when he threw the knives at me,” I answer, setting the ice pack on the table before picking up a hamburger. “Eric had me go with him to the infirmary to get an ice pack.”

“That’s it? He didn’t yell at you for standing up to him?” asks Christina.

“I’m already being punished, remember?” I tell them.

“Still, that was awesome,” says Will, sounding impressed. “You were the only one that stood up to Eric.”

Coming to think of it, he may not have punished me right now, but I feel that he’s planning how to at this moment. But then, why did have me get an ice pack? Probably to lower my guard again.

“Are you okay, Al?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “I guess. I’m just glad that you intervened or I would have flinched during the whole thing.”

“And you would have been spending the night in the infirmary,” says Christina.

 

* * *

 

Five minutes before six, I enter the training room. Eric isn’t here yet, so I decide to give an go on the punching bag. I let out my anger on it: my anger towards Four, Peter, anything that would help with the force of the punches.

The door opens and I look over my shoulder to see Eric enter. He smirks at the swaying punching bag, and for some reason, I’m smirking as well.

“Excellent. You’re definitely going to pass the first stage at this rate,” he says, walking towards me.

“There is that last fight, though,” I point out.

“Still, you’re not going to cut,” he says, pulling out the straps for the padding. “Now, let’s start. You got a fight to prepare for tomorrow.”

After padding our knuckles, we both ascend the platform. At first we circle each other for an few minutes before I see him beginning to form an fist. I quickly block it and punch him in the jaw.

He stumbles back and he gleams with satisfaction. “I’ve got to give you credit. You’re not deaf.”

I nod before positioning my body again. I swiftly block a punch to my abdomen while he does the same, guarding his nose.

We do this for the next few minutes: block each other’s punches, though on occasion, we managed to pack a punch at each other. I hate to admit it, but it’s like we almost synchronize with each other. Probably because I have been fighting with him instead of pounding on a punching bag all the time.

Once we’re finished, we both lie on the platform, catching our breaths. I look over at him, wondering how he could have been born Erudite with the fighting skills he has.

“The other initiates are going to wonder why I’m doing so well,” I say.

He sits up and looks down on me. “They’ll probably think that you learned after watching previous fights and from experience.

True, but they’ll always be that suspicion of me getting extra help.

“Why don’t you get some rest,” he says. “You need all the energy that you can get for tomorrow.”


	6. Chapter Six

Today is the day before Visiting Day. I think of Visiting Day like I would the world ending: Nothing after it matters. Everything I do builds up to it. I might see my parents. I might not. Which is worse? I don’t know.

I quickly shower and change before going back into the dormitory. Christina, Will, and Al are nowhere in sight, though I do my best to pretend that Peter and his lackeys are not in the room when I cross to my bed. I bend and open my trunk, trying to find the book that Eric lent to me. Covering it in a black shirt, I take it from the trunk, only to have someone nearly jam my fingers in before I could close it. Right behind me is Peter.

I slowly stand up, holding the shirt covered book under my arm.

“What’s that you’re hiding?” he asks, gesturing to the book I’m hiding.

“Nothing,” I lie, curling my fist behind my back; the blood rushing to my face.

“You’re lying,” he says. “I know you’re hiding something. Now, show me what you’re hiding or I’ll tell Eric that you’re hiding something.”

“It will be no use,” says Molly, folding her arms. “It’s like he has a fixation for her. It makes me want to vomit.”

“Oh, I forgot,” says Peter. “She’s his pet.” He turns to me, his eyes hard. “Why does he think you’re so special, huh? You’re nothing but a Stiff.”

I feared this would happen, however, I do my best to look indifferent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I walk past him –

I feel him tug on the black shirt that I’m holding to keep the book concealed, and I turn around, trying to hold on to the book and the shirt, hard to prevent it from getting it ripped out of my hands.

However, the force of the tugging causes the shirt to rip and the book falls to the floor, with an few pages disconnecting from the book in the process.

“What’s this?” I try to pick it up before he does, but Peter is faster than I am and picks it up.

“Give that back,” I seethe, grabbing his arm.

Peter looks through it, trying to look innocent with curiosity before saying, “Ah-ha! I’ve seen you been cheating. You’ve _stolen_ a book.”

I lunge forward and try to grab the book from him, trying to make sure that Peter doesn’t rip the pages out of malice.

“Hey! Stop that!” I hear Edward say. He comes between us and carefully takes the book out of Peter’s hands. He hands the book back to me.

“I didn’t think that you would stick up for her, Edward,” Peter sneers. “I thought Noses hated Stiffs.”

“Yes, I find them overbearing with their ideals, but I don’t hate the Abnegation,” says Edward. “You be surprised how Erudite’s divided on their stance about the faction.”

I pick up the loose pages and leave the dormitory. Out in the hallway, I try to put some of the loose pages back to where they’ve could’ve fallen from. I try to insert the pages without bending them.

“Are you okay, Tris?” I hear Edward ask me.

I look up at him. “I guess.” I wait an beat. “What do you mean that Erudite is divided when it comes to the Abnegation?”

“Intelligent people don’t tend to think alike,” he answers. “Put two intelligent people in a room and they’ll have two different ideas how to achieve their goals.”

I never saw it that way; then again, I was wary of the Erudite my whole life. “I find it ironic that the transfers from Erudite didn’t give me an hard time, and Candor is usually at odds with Amity.”

“The reports are getting to every faction,” he says, sitting down across from me. “Besides, not everyone in Erudite hates the Abnegation. Personally, I find them rather stifling, but I didn’t have problems with Abnegation dependents in school. Some of the Erudite dependents can be very immature at times.”

“I thought they didn’t allow their children to be childish,” I say.

“You don’t really know a faction until you’ve stepped into it,” he says.

Perhaps he has a point. I wasn’t born Erudite nor was a born Dauntless. I know how Abnegation operates, but that’s because I was born Abnegation.

 

* * *

 

I rush to the training room for my last fight. I hope it’s with Peter.

“Hey, where were you earlier?” Christina asks when I rush in. I squint to see the blackboard across the room. The space next to my name is blank – I haven’t gotten an opponent yet.

“I got held up,” I answer.

Four stands in front of the board and writes a name next to mine. _Please let it be Peter, please, please…_

“You okay, Tris? You look a little…” says Al.

“A little what?

Four moves away from the board and shoots me a look that can deemed sympathetic before shooting a glare at Eric, who’s leaning against a pillar, before moving to the other side of the room. The name written next to mine _is_ Peter. I feel vicious pleasure coursing through me.

“On edge,” says Al.

Christina looks at the board and she crumbles the muffin wrapper under her fist. “Are they serious? They’re really going to make _you_ fight _him_?”

“It’s Eric,” says Will. “He’s getting back at you for what happened yesterday.”

It would make sense why Four would glare at Eric, but why would Four look at me with sympathy after taunting me yesterday? Besides, putting me against Peter would be seen as punishment, but I don’t care. I want to prove to Peter that I’m not going to be pushed around.

My fight is second on the list, so I have to wait until after Edward fights Molly. He’s faster than she is, which means that she will lose again.

As the fight goes on, I start to get nervous. Of the eight other initiates, only Edward was able to beat him, and Peter had no trouble beating his other opponents to bloody pulps. He’s tall enough to be strong but not so big that he’s slow; he has an eye for people’s soft spots; he’s vicious and won’t show me any mercy.

My nervousness slightly subsides when I think about the circumstances. Had I fought him first, I would’ve been beaten into a bloody pulp. I am not as unskilled as I would have been.

All courtesy goes to Eric.

By the time Molly peels herself off the platform, looking only half-conscious thanks to Edward, my heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my fingertips.

 _You can win this, Tris_ , I tell myself. _It’s not like the beginning of this week_.

When it’s our turn, I ascend the platform with confidence. Peter smiles at me; the smile of a predator about to attack his prey.

“You okay there, Stiff?” he says. “You look like you’re about to cry. I might go easy if you cry.”

Do I really or is he just saying that to provoke me?

Over Peter’s shoulder, I see Four standing by the door with his arms folded. His mouth is puckered, like he just swallowed something sour. Eric stands a few feet away from him, his arms folded as well, though he’s looking at Peter with great dislike.

Peter and I get into position. We even match: our arms our spaced out to guard both our face and abdomen and both our legs are bent.

“Come on, Stiff,” he goads, his eyes glinting. “Show me what _little_ you got.”

On impulse, I kick him in the side. Or I would have kicked him in the side, if he had not caught my foot and yanked it forward, knocking me off-balance. My back smacks into the floor, and I yank my foot free. I see Peter begin to move his foot – probably to kick my head – and quickly, I just hook my feet around his other foot.

He falls on his back and I get on my feet before he does. I notice that he’s no longer smirking. We both circle each other, and I block my jaw with my elbow and I quickly grab his wrist before proceeding to punch him hard in the nose.

He wipes his nose, blood covering his fingertips. “Jeez, Stiff, I didn’t think you were _this_ good. What else did you learn besides reading that – ”

I interrupt him by kicking him in the stomach but he recovers quickly and right when I start to defend my abdomen, he punches me in the stomach. I fall on my knees and before I could get on my feet, Peter grabs my ponytail with one hand and punches me in the nose with the other. My vision goes black around the edges, but I punch him in the side, causing him to ease his grip and I get on my feet.

I wipe my nose with my fingers as we face each other again. I begin to think where to hit him next. Perhaps I can attempt to punch his eye, so I can distract him from guarding his abdomen.

I aim at his eye. He grabs my wrist, slightly twisting it in the process. Rage fills me and before he can move, I punch him below his bellybutton. My fist sinks into his flesh and I sweep-kick his legs out from under him, and he falls hard on the platform. Before he can get up, I kick his ribs.

I ignore the pain in my wrist and I kick him in the stomach. _You look like you’re about to cry. I might go easy if you cry._ I kick again, this time I kick his face and blood stains my shoes. I land another kick in his chest.

I pull my foot back again, but Eric’s hands grabs me at the waist and I find myself being pulled away with irresistible force. I relish the sight of Peter down on the ground, groaning. I showed him, I showed him…

“You won. That is enough,” says Eric. I look up at him. He’s not smirking, but it’s like he’s trying to swallow back bile. I rub my chin and see that the blood dripped to my chin. That’s probably why.

“Go to the hospital,” he says to me, before looking at Peter. “Someone get him out of here.”

I nod before walking towards the door and I pass Four, who’s looking at me with wide eyes as I walk out. I don’t know whether it’s the blood on my face or beating Peter.

I feel satisfied and it disturbs me.

 

* * *

 

I sit in the infirmary, looking at my shoes which are dark with blood. Peter’s blood.

While I only attained a twisted wrist and broken nose from him, I broke several of his ribs and his nose. I wish I could have done more damage.

My mother and father would be ashamed of me for thinking this way. However, I don’t care. Peter deserved everything that he got.

Hearing footsteps, I snap up my head, expecting to see Eric, only to see Four. Somehow I feel disappointed that it wasn’t Eric instead.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Oh, were you expecting Eric?” he asks, his eyes hard.

“Well…kind of,” I say, knowing that I shouldn’t lie about it.

“I don’t know why you would,” says Four, approaching the chair beside me that is empty. “He is not the type to help initiates. Especially Stiffs like you.”

He sits beside me. I remember that he warned me that Eric could be planted by Erudite to look for Divergents. Then I remember the knives yesterday. I glare at him.

“I’m going to make it through initiation, that’s what counts,” I insist. “Eric promised me that I’ll pass stage one.”

“He’ll let you pass alright.” Four scoffs. “Just to keep a microscope over you. You really raised his suspicions when you took Al’s place yesterday.”

Four’s expression is hard, but his dark blue eyes are pleading and thoughtful. I’m sure he means well, but I can’t erase his taunting from yesterday. I stand up.

“Are you just trying to make up for what happened yesterday?” I demand.

“Tris –” he insists.

“If you care about someone, you don’t throw knives at their head and taunt them in the process,” I argue. “If you actually cared, you wouldn’t demean me in front of everyone.”

I expect Four to yell at me for my insubordination. Instead he shakes his head before standing up and he leaves the room. I wonder what the cause of that disappointment was.

 

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe that you handed Peter’s ass to him,” says Christina again. The dining hall is full of noise, but I’m used to it now.

“He deserved what he got,” I say, stabbing my fork into my food. “It’s not like I’m going to let him walk all over me.”

“Good thing you beat him and landed him in the hospital,” says Al. “Otherwise I would have done that myself if it were the other way around.”

“I thought you didn’t want to hurt anyone,” Will points out.

“I just don’t want to hurt someone for no reason,” says Al. I wonder that’s how he had seen the fights this week.

I go dump the remaining contents of my tray in the trashcan when I cross Eric. I don’t feel as tempted to get away from him like I used to. I guess I’ve been around him too much.

“How’s your wrist?” he asks me.

“Not too bad, though it will take some time to heal,” I answer, holding up my covered wrist.

“Let’s walk and talk,” he says and I walk out of the dining hall with him.

With most of the Dauntless at dinner, the Pit isn’t too populated with the few exceptions of stragglers. We both stand by the chasm, watching the water cascade down the rocks; the sound of roar of the rushing water filling the stone cavern.

“So, you beat Peter,” says Eric. “That was rather impressive, concerning his rank.”

“I was hoping that I would get to fight him,” I admit. “Just to show him that I’m not his doormat.”

“Care to talk about what happened prior to the fighting?” asks Eric, rather thoughtfully. “When someone is full of rage like that during an fight, it means it’s personal.”

I gulp. I know I can’t keep this an secret from him, especially an former Erudite. He’s not Candor, but even the Erudite know when and if someone is hiding something from them. “Peter cornered me and antagonized me this morning.”

“For whatever for?”

“He saw that I was hiding an book under an shirt and when I refused to show it to him, he tugged on the shirt, causing the book to fall to the floor,” I confess. “Peter accused me of cheating and would have damaged the book further if Edward had intervened.”

“By further damage, what do you mean?” he asks.

“A few pages fell out.”

“That’s not an problem,” says Eric. “I’m just hoping he got the message that he should be careful for those that appear too gentle and timid, since they could be capable of doing serious damage as well when provoked.”

I see why, since people that are easily underestimated can actually be strong.

“I’m hoping that as well,” I say. “Though I fear it might take a few times to get that message across.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, since he’s an idiot,” says Eric.


	7. Chapter Seven

            Visiting Day. The second I open my eyes, I remember. My heart leaps and I’m filled with satisfaction seeing Peter limping in the dormitory, his nose bandaged with an white strip. He sends daggers at my direction. I return it with a defiant glare. I know I should watch my back, but right now, I don’t care.

            What matters is that I showed him that I will not be his doormat.

            Everyone else dresses in silence. Not even Christina smiles. We all know that we might go to the Pit floor and search every face and never find one that belongs to us.

            I make my bed with the tight corners like my father taught me. As I pinch a stray hair from my pillow, Eric walks in.

            “Attention!” he announces. “I want to give you some advice about today. If by some miracle your families do come to visit you…” He scans our faces and smirks. “…which I doubt, it is best not to seem too attached. That will make it easier for you, and easier for them. We also take the phrase ‘faction before blood’ very seriously here. Attachment to your family suggests you aren’t entirely pleased with your faction, which would be _shameful_. Understand?”

            I understand. I hear the threat in Eric’s sharp voice. The only part of that speech that Eric meant was the last part: We are Dauntless, and we need to act accordingly.

            On my way out of the dormitory, Eric stops me.

            “Are your parents going to show up?” he asks. His eyes – which are grey-colored – appear thoughtful.

            “Why does it matter to you?” I demand. “You told us not to get attached.”

            “Yes, however, I would be surprised if one of them didn’t,” he says. “They are Abnegation, so it probably would be considered selfish not to come see you.”

            He’s right. It would be selfish, but the paths here make it impossible for anyone not Dauntless to cross. Eric takes his keychain out of his pocket and pulls out a key, and gives it to me.

            “This is the spare key to my apartment,” he says. “If your parents don’t show up, just go up to my apartment so you wouldn’t have to see the other reunions. Also, you’re free to come to my apartment when you just want to get away from it all.”

            I find that rather strange that he would trust me with his spare key, though the idea of having an place to just get away from everything is tempting. I put the key in my pocket.

            “Thank you,” I say.

            “I’ll be at the Pit in an few minutes,” he says. “I hope I don’t see you out there by yourself.”

            I slip past him and go down the empty hallway to the Pit. I run my fingers through my hair and partially restrain it. I check my clothes – am I covered up? My pants are tight and my collarbone shows. They won’t approve.

            Who cares if they approve? I set my jaw. This is my faction now. These are the clothes my faction wears. I stop just before the hallway ends.

            Clusters of families stand on the Pit floor, most of them Dauntless families with Dauntless-born initiates. They still look strange to me – a mother with a pierced eyebrow, a father with a tattooed arm, an initiate with purple hair, a wholesome family unit. I spot Drew and Molly standing alone at one end of the room and notice with pleasure that their families didn’t come.

            But Peter’s did. He stands next to a tall man with bushy eyebrows, and a short, meek-looking woman with red hair. Neither of his parents looks like him. They both wear the typical black and white Candor clothing, dressed in pressed blazers, shirts, and pants, and his father speaks so loudly that I can almost hear him from where I stand. Do they know what kind of person their son is?

            Then again…what kind of person am I?

            Across the room, Will stands with a blonde woman in a blue, professional dress and jacket. She doesn’t look old enough to be his mother, considering that she looks to be in her early twenties but Will talked about having a sister once; maybe that’s her.

            Next to him, Christina hugs a dark-skinned woman in Candor black and white. Standing behind Christina is a young girl, also a Candor. Her younger sister.

            Should I even bother scanning the crowd for my parents? I could just go up the Pire and wait it out in Eric’s apartment. Maybe I can just look to see what consists of his book collection.

            Then I see her. My mother stands alone near the railing with her hands clasped in front of her. She has never looked out of place, with her grey dress and her grey jacket, her hair in its simple twist and her face placid. I start toward her, tears jumping from my eyes. She came, she came for me.

            I walk faster. She sees me, and for a second her expression is blank, like she doesn’t know who I am. Then her eyes light up, and she opens her arms. She smells like soap and laundry detergent.

            “Beatrice,” she whispers. She runs her hand over my hair.

            _Don’t cry_ , I tell myself. I hold her until I can blink the moisture from my eyes, and then pull back to look at her again. I smile with closed lips, just like she does. She touches my cheek.

            “Well, look at you,” she says. “You’ve filled out.” She puts her arm across my shoulders. “Tell me how you are.”

            “You first.” The old habits are back. I should let her speak first. I shouldn’t let the conversation stay focused on me for too long. I should make sure she doesn’t need anything.

            “Today is a special occasion,” she says. “I came to see you, so let’s talk mostly about you. It is my gift to you.”

            My selfless mother. She should not be giving me gifts, not after I left her and my father. I walk with her toward the railing that overlooks the chasm, glad to be close to her. The last week has been more affectionless than I realized. At home we did not touch each other often, and the most I ever saw my parents do was hold hands at the dinner table, but it was more than this, more than here.

            “Just one question.” I feel my pulse in my throat. “Where’s Dad? Is he visiting Caleb?”

            “Ah.” She shakes her head. “Your father had to be at work.”

            I look down. “You can tell me if he didn’t want to come.”

            Her eyes travel over my face. “Your father has been selfish lately. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, I promise.”

            I stare at her, stunned. My father – selfish? More startling than the label is the fact that assigned it to him. I can’t tell by looking at her if she’s angry. I don’t expect to be able to. But she must be; if she calls him selfish, she must be angry.

            I see Eric walk across the Pit. He approaches Molly and Drew and says something to them. They both scurry away like mice. Maybe he doesn’t like it if initiates are just standing around, doing nothing on Visiting Day.

            “What about Caleb?” I ask, turning back to mother. “Will you visit him later?”

            “I wish I could,” she says, “but the Erudite have prohibited Abnegation visitors from entering theircompound. If I tried, I would be removed from the premises.”

            “What?” I demand. “That’s terrible. Why would they do that?”

            “Tensions between our factions are higher than ever,” she says. “I wish it wasn’t that way, but there is little I can do about it.”

            I think of Caleb standing among the Erudite initiates, scanning the crowd for our mother, and feel a pang in my stomach. Part of me is still angry with him for keeping so many secrets from me, but I don’t want him to hurt. He’s going to think that mother abandoned him.

            “That’s terrible,” I repeat.

I look over my shoulder to see Eric approaching us. One part of me wants to steer my mother away from the chasm so she wouldn’t have to see him; the other half considers the latter idiotic, that nothing wrong is going to happen.

            Then again…Eric wondered if my parents or one of them was going to show up.

            “Is everything going okay for you, ladies?” he asks, lacing his fingers together.

            “Everything is fine. Thank you.” She doesn’t look as if he’s intimidating her. Something tells me that she’s familiar seeing Dauntless as intimidating as Eric.

            If he notices that she doesn’t appear intimidated, he doesn’t let that bother him. He offers his hand. “My name is Eric, one of the five Dauntless leaders.”

            I expect her to hesitate or at least ask why he’s a Dauntless leader at the age of eighteen. Instead she fits her hand into his and shakes his hand twice, like she’s done it an few times before. “My name is Natalie. I’m Beatrice’s mother.”

            I have never seen my mother shake hands with someone before. Over my mother’s shoulder, I see that Four is standing by the chasm. He shakes his head before walking away.

            “If you’re wondering, I’ll say that your daughter is doing well in her initiation so far,” he says. “I’ve been overseeing her stage one initiation training.”

            Since when does “overseeing” include giving me personal training, that could unintentionally leave a target on my back?

            “That’s good to hear,” she says. “I know a few things about Dauntless initiation, and I was worried about her.”

            “Dauntless initiation is rather _difficult_ to those who don’t know what they’re going to deal with,” says Eric. “There will be those who are idiotic to understand that people have the ability to adapt to their environment.”

            He’s not going to give names. Of course he wouldn’t.

            Mother sighs. “A few people don’t want to associate or be on friendly terms with the Abnegation now days.”

            “Blame that on the reports from Erudite,” he says. “Some people are smart enough that they want to form their own opinions while others just swallow it up without a second thought. It’s like spoon feeding the masses arsenic and telling them its sugar.”

            Is he merely lying just so he won’t offend my mother? He was Erudite once.

            “You don’t believe them, do you?” she asks.

            He pauses at first. “Since all of them are backed up by information that looks credible, I don’t know where my opinion falls. Now, if you excuse me, I have important things to do.”

            My mother and I watch him leave. I watch as he weaves around the clusters of people before going up the stairwell to the Pire. I found it rather ironic that Eric, a former Erudite, was respectful to my mother, an Abnegation. Wait, he’s a Dauntless leader; he has to act professional.

            “What’s he like?” she asks.

            “He’s intimidating,” I answer. “I’ve only known him for a week, but I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.”

            “Have you made friends?” she asks.

            “A few,” I say.

 

* * *

 

            When mother leaves, a half hour before lunch, I run to the dormitory. Fortunately, no one is in sight. I rush to my trunk, pull out Eric’s book, cover it with an orange-red shirt and dash out of the dormitory.

            I weave through the clusters of families, trying not to bump into people. My head clears when I ascend the stairs to the Pire. The area is almost bare, with a few people on ropes. The elevator is empty when I enter it and fortunately, no one enters as it goes up to the third floor.

            After the elevator door opens, I walk down the hallway of apartments until I reach the door that leads to Eric’s apartment. I take out the spare key and fumble with the lock. Hearing the door unlock, I pocket the key and enter his apartment.

            Only the light from the sun outside lights the place and I cross over to one of his bookshelves and place the book on one of the shelves. Deciding to kill time, I plan on exploring his apartment, since I’ve only been in his living room and kitchen.

            I go to the archway that leads to the short hallway, and see that there’s an additional door to my right when I enter. Curiosity fills me when I open the door to my left. It’s a bathroom, but it’s smaller than the one in my old home back in Abnegation, as the shower stall, sink, and toilet are close together. It smells of that masculine body wash that the Dauntless men wear.

            I close the door and decide to open the next door. I turn on the light and upon entering, I find out that I entered an bedroom. An queen sized bed is situated under an open window on the bed is an black duvet pulled over the pillows. There is a plywood dresser near the door and other then an mirror situated above it, there’s no other decorations.

            The only way I know that he’s been in here is that I smell spicy men’s cologne he wears all the time. I turn off the light and close the bedroom door.

            The door on my right leads to a smaller, spare bedroom. I close that door and when I enter the room, I hear the doorknob move before the door opens, but fortunately it’s just Eric.

            _You’re letting your guard down_ , my mind warns me, but somehow, I don’t want to listen.

            “Your mother left?” he asks, closing the door behind him and turning on the lights.

            “Yeah, she had to leave,” I answer, as he approaches me. “She has to help make meals for the factionless.”

            I expect him to counter that, by citing one of the Erudite reports. Fortunately, he doesn’t. “I find it interesting that your father didn’t show up, but then again, my father didn’t show up for Visiting Day two years ago.”

            “Why?” I ask, sitting down on the couch, and he sits next to me. “Erudite doesn’t have strained relations with Dauntless as far as I know.”

            I expect him to snap at me for bringing up his former faction, but he doesn’t for some reason. “Most of the Erudite think that the Dauntless are moronic idiots for constantly putting their lives in jeopardy.” Eric snorts, like he agrees somewhat with that. “Father thought that joining Dauntless would only stunt my intellectual potential and that it will lead me to nowhere. Look where I am now?”

            I’m reminded of my father calling the Dauntless “Hellions.” I could understand why the Erudite are put off by the Dauntless: anything that requires adrenaline defies logic, and the Erudite value logic.

            “My father doesn’t seem to like the Dauntless either,” I tell him. “He calls them ‘Hellions’.”

            “It shouldn’t surprise me that the Abnegation are put off by them either,” says Eric. “All those reckless stunts are seen as self-indulgent to them most likely.”

           Without thinking, I blurt out, “Do you believe in the reports that your former faction releases about the Abnegation?”

            He presses his lips together, like he’s not sure how to answer at first. “All of them are backed up by information that looks credible. The Erudite only make their views public if they feel they have valuable and credible sources and information. Personally, I’m straddling the fence on that one. Half the time, I believe them, half the time I don’t.”

            _Half_. That should leave a bad taste in my mouth, but somehow it doesn’t. I think I would rather be around someone who only believes half of the reports than someone who believes in all of them.

            “What reports do you do and don’t believe?” I ask.

            “There was a mathematical error in the report about food consumption by faction,” says Eric. “I doubt that Abnegation can consume all that food or even hoard it. Hoarding food will result in it spoiling and going bad. Then again, I doubt that the Abnegation will allow the factionless to starve, as it would violate their manifesto.”

            I guess Jeanine knew that error, but kept it in because it would further her anti-Abnegation propaganda. Eric is right that hoarding food will only result in it spoiling.

            “One of the reports I _do_ believe, is that fairly recent one about Marcus Eaton,” says Eric.

            I frown. “That’s already been debunked by my father.”

            “Oh, so your father is good friends with him,” says Eric, raising an eyebrow.

            “I wouldn’t say friends,” I correct. “More like coworkers who are on good terms with each other.”

            “Well, even if they were friends, I say that your father was probably deceived into thinking that Marcus Eaton _actually_ has any good character.”

            I stand up. “My father is no idiot.”

            “Even the smartest people are deceived. Child abusers who hold a prominent position in society tend to keep it behind closed doors,” says Eric. “They don’t want their squeaky clean image tarnished.”

            I’m about to disagree with him when I realize that he might have a point.

            “What convinced you that it was true?” I ask him.

            “Tobias was quite a loner during stage one of initiation,” Eric answers. “He would spend his time in one of the training rooms and sit by himself during mealtimes. I would have thought his withdrawn behavior was because of his Abnegation upbringing if he didn’t thrash in his sleep every other night.”

            “Thrashing?” I ask. “Why would he thrash?”

            “Thrashing in one’s sleep is one of the indictors of PTSD,” Eric says matter-of-factly. “If Marcus Eaton didn’t abuse him, where did that part of PTSD come from? Also, Tobias Eatondidn’t acknowledge his Visiting Day and his father didn’t show up. Now, what were you told how Eaton Sr. reacted to his son’s transfer?”

            “My parents said that it devastated him,” I answer.

            “Devastated him,” Eric repeats, scoffing. “If he loved his son and his transfer devastated him, he would have made the point to visit his son in the Pire.”

            There is no denying that Eric has a point there. Father didn’t show up but mother said that it was because of his selfishness. Maybe there are things I don’t know.

            “I’m not Erudite, though,” I say. “I apologize.”

            “It’s not your fault that you were brought up in Abnegation,” says Eric. “Did you even read that report?”

            “No,” I say, feeling stupid.

            “It’s not smart to have an opinion on a report you haven’t read.” Eric gets up from the couch and I watch him disappear into the kitchen. I hear the ruffling of papers and he comes back, holding a copy of the newspaper. “This was convenient timing as I was planning on recycling week old newspapers. You don’t have to read it now, though you just have to make sure that the initiates didn’t get a hold of it.”

            The top of the paper reads _The Erudite Gazette_. My family used to get the paper until six months ago, when the Erudite started producing anti-Abnegation propaganda.

            “I gave you back your book,” I tell him.

            “You can keep it if you like,” he says.

 

* * *

 

            At lunch, I sit by myself. My friends are still with their families, so it gives me an chance to read the report that the Erudite produced. I move away my tray and spread the paper in front of me. It’s on the front page.

**_Marcus Eaton’s Secret Revealed. Cruelty Led To Son’s Transfer_ **

_Two years ago, Tobias Eaton surprised everyone at the Choosing Ceremony by leaving Abnegation for Dauntless. Since he’s the only one from his faction that left Abnegation in preference for the brave, we have asked ourselves: what would cause the son of an important man to leave the faction that was supposedly selfless? What led him to leave, especially if he tested for Abnegation? We dug deep into the reason on how he could have transferred and last week, we found disturbing evidence that his father was cruel and violent towards him, often beating his son with a belt._

_Those who knew him before his transfer and during his initiation gave us some crucial information, confirming that cruelty and violence from his father was to blame. “He kept to himself during stage one of our initiation,” says Eric Matheson, a Dauntless leader who was in the same initiation class as Tobias Eaton. “I would have thought that his isolation was a result of being brought up in Abnegation if I didn’t hear him thrash and scream at night.”_

_Eric Matheson’s mother, Clarisse, who still resides in Erudite with her husband Cedric Matheson and teaches the Lower Level children Literacy, notes that the boy’s curious, introverted behavior tipped her off. “Abnegation children usually speak when they’re spoken to, but he was the most withdrawn of all of them. I actually met with his father after school once and asked him why. Marcus answered, ‘His mother passed away two years ago. Her death was hard for him.’ I replied, ‘Since it’s been two years, I think your son would be over that stage of grief by now.’ He accused me of prying into private family matters. Looking back at the conversation now, it sent up red flags. I feel guilty for not investigating further.”_

_Evelyn Eaton nee Johnson, raised an Erudite and transferred to Abnegation, passed away from childbirth, the infant dying minutes later, when Tobias Eaton was nine, or so we were told. What’s strange after looking through her medical records, we came to the conclusion that she wasn’t pregnant. Since individuals who abuse children also extend the abuse to their spouses, it’s possible to conclude that her husband could have gone too far in the abuse that it eventually killed her._

_We couldn’t reach Marcus Eaton for further comment, though we were told by Abnegation councilman Andrew Prior that were intruding in Abnegation and should exit._

            I think father said something about it a few weeks ago; that Erudite reporters came to Abnegation headquarters to interview Marcus about what father called “preposterous allegations.” But what gets me is that the Erudite insinuated that Marcus could have beaten his wife to death instead of dying from child birth.

            I remember going to the Eaton home for Evelyn’s funeral. I was seven then. Looking back then, Marcus didn’t give any indication that he beat her; he was somber and didn’t act inappropriate. He couldn’t possibly have…

            _Child abusers who hold a prominent position in society tend to keep it behind closed doors_ , I remember Eric telling me. Was that just a charade on Marcus’s part? One thing that can’t be denied is that the Erudite have access to medical records and if they say that Evelyn wasn’t pregnant, then it must be true.

            I look up to see Four about to walk by my table. I quickly stuff the paper in the book and bring my tray back in front of me. I’m hoping that Four walks past me, but he sets his tray across from mine and sit down.

            “I saw that your mother came,” he notes.

            “Were you there at the Pit?” I ask, playing coy, not looking at him and I proceed to eat my lasagna.

            “I was near the railing of the chasm as well,” he pauses. “When did you acquire that?”

            His fingers touch the cover of the self-defense book that’s sitting by my tray.

            I look at him this time. “Should you even know?”

            “I see how he’s making you lower your guard down,” he says. “Hopefully, I don’t hear that you go into his apartment this time.”

            _It’s too late. I’ve gone up there twice now_ , I think. Of course, Eric could be lowering my guard or maybe it’s just paranoia.

            “I understand your concern, but I can take care of myself,” I tell him. “Eric hasn’t done anything that would be slightly threatening.”

            “He set you up with Peter,” he says. “Most likely it was punishment for standing up to him two days ago.”

            “But I won, and if Eric expected me to suffer a great loss, he would have paired us for my first fight,” I point out.

            Four purses his lips, trying to think what he’s trying to say, before saying, “Careful, Tris.”

            He said the same thing during dinner during my first night here. I watch as he picks up his tray and leaves the table.        


	8. Chapter Eight

At dinnertime, I sat with my friends. Discussing our family visits would have been too painful, so our final rankings for stage one are all anyone can talk about that night. Every time someone near me brought it up, I stared at some point across the room and ignored them.

            My rank can’t be that bad. I lost to Edward, but that was my first fight, and I improved overtime. I don’t know what stage two will involve, since it’s emotional, but I’m hoping my ranking is good enough to get me up to the top ten.

            After dinner we go back to the dormitory, and it’s hard for me not to sprint, knowing that the rankings will be up when I get there. I want to get it over with. At the door to the dormitory, Drew shoves me into the wall to get past me. My shoulder scrapes on the stone, but I keep walking.

            Near the back of the room, I see Four, with the blackboard on floor, lying against his legs. I find a place next to Christina so I can get a good view.

            “For those of you who just came in, I’m explaining how the ranks are determined,” he says. “After the first round of fights, we ranked you according to your skill level. The number of points you earn depends on your skill level and the skill level of the person you beat. You earn more points for improving and more points for beating someone of a high skill level. I don’t reward preying on the weak. That is cowardice.”

            My rank can’t really be that bad, since I improved and beat both Molly and Peter.

            “If you have a high rank, you lose points for losing to a low-ranked opponent.”

            Molly lets out an unpleasant noise, like a snort or a grumble. I thought I feel Peter glare at me, but I don’t bother looking at him.

            “Stage two of training is weighted more heavily than stage one, because it is more closely tied to overcoming cowardice,” he says. “That said, it is extremely difficult to rank high at the end of initiation if you rank low in stage one.

            “We will announce the cuts tomorrow,” Four says. “The fact that you are transfers and the Dauntless-born initiates are not will not be taken into consideration. Four of you could be factionless and none of them. Or four of them could be factionless and none of you. Or any combination thereof. That said, here are your ranks.”

            He hangs the board on the hook and steps back so we can see the rankings:

            _First: Edward_

_Second: Peter_

_Third: Tris_

            Third? I thought I would only get a four, as that’s what Eric speculated. Probably because I gained some points fighting Peter and he lost a few by fighting me. Add that to all those mornings of private training which helped me improve. That’s probably why I received the three ranking. Molly’s rank was probably brought down an few points when she fought me and after losing to Edward.

_Fourth: Will_

_Fifth: Christina_

_Sixth: Molly_

_Seventh: Drew_

_Eight: Al_

_Nine: Myra_

            Al isn’t dead last, but unless the Dauntless-born initiates completely failed their version of stage one of initiation, he is factionless.

            I glance at Christina. She tilts her head and frowns at the board. She isn’t the only one. The quiet in the room is uneasy, like it is rocking back and forth on a ledge.

            Then it falls.

            “What?” demands Molly. She points at Christina. “I beat her! I beat her in _minutes_ , and she’s ranked _above_ me?”

            “Yeah,” says Christina, crossing her arms. She wears a smug smile. “And?”

            “If you intend to secure yourself a high rank, I suggest you don’t make a habit of losing to fights after winning the first and losing to previously low-ranked opponents,” says Four, his voice cutting through the mutters and grumbles of the other initiates. He pockets the chalk and walks past me without glancing in my direction.

            Even though Four didn’t give any names, Molly glares at me.

            “You,” she says, focusing her narrowed eyes on me. “ _You_ are going to pay for this, you cheat.”

            I expect her to lunge at me, or hit me, but she just turns on her heel and stalks out of the dormitory, and that is worse. If she had exploded, her anger would have been spent quickly, after a punch or two. Leaving means she wants to plan something. Leaving means I have to be on my guard. Instead of taking responsibility for her rank, she decides to blame me.

            Peter didn’t say anything when the rankings went up, which, given his tendency to complain about anything that doesn’t go his way, is surprising. He just walks to his bed and sits down, untying his shoelaces. That makes me feel even more uneasy. He can’t possibly be satisfied with second place. Not Peter.

            Will and Christina slap hands, and then Will claps me on the back with his hand.

            “Look at you, Number three,” he says, grinning.

            “Seems like Eric’s punishment did some good,” says Christina, grinning as well.

            “I wish it was on my own, though,” I remind them.

            “Don’t worry,” Will says. “We should celebrate.”

            “Well, let’s go, then,” says Christina, grabbing my arm with one hand and Al’s arm with the other. “Come on, Al. You don’t know how the Dauntless-borns did. You don’t know anything for sure.”

            “I’m just going to go to bed,” he mumbles, pulling his arm free.

            In the hallway, it is easy to forget about Al and Molly’s revenge and Peter’s suspicious calm, and easy to pretend that what separates us as friends does not exist. But lingering at the back of my mind is the fact that Christina and Will are my competitors. If I want to fight my way to the top ten, I will have to beat them first.

            I just hope I don’t have to betray them in the process.

 

* * *

 

            “You sure you don’t want to add some color in your hair?” Christina asks me as the three of us go to the Pit. I touch my dark-blonde locks. I would hate to add color to it after seeing my mother, plus I don’t want any regrets.

            On second thought, maybe it wouldn’t hurt.

            “Okay, but I don’t want to get shocking bright colors,” I tell her.

            At the hair salon that’s next to the clothing place, someone streaks my hair to a shade of pink that they call Steel Pink. Looking at the mirror, I expect to look dissatisfied, but I don’t.

            It actually goes well with my hair.

            “What happened to you?” Will when we meet him outside. “I thought that you didn’t want to dye your hair.”

            “I just didn’t want it to be bright,” I say.

            “I told you that it will look good,” says Christina, smiling. However, her smile falters after she looks over my shoulder. I turn to see Eric standing at the other side of the Pit. He looks at me and gestures to me.

            “What does he want?” asks Will.

            “I don’t know,” I say. “He probably wants to congratulate me on my rank.”

            I walk away from him and walk towards Eric through the crowded Pit. Standing an few feet away from him, is Four and two other Dauntless members. His eyes cling to me when he sees me approach Eric, like he’s afraid that I’m about to do something life-threatening.

            “Hey, Tris,” says Eric.

            “Hi,” I say. “Do you want something?”

            “No, I was just rescuing you from your friends,” he replies. “I like what you did with your hair.”

            He picks up a lock of it. My first instinct is to slap his hand away, but I discard that thought. It’s nothing too inappropriate.

            “I just didn’t want anything too radical,” I tell him.

            “Good, because that color coordinates with your hair,” he says.

            To think it myself was one thing, but to hear it from him causes the heat to rush to my cheeks. I’ve never received a compliment from someone, especially a man.

            “Do you want to come to my apartment?” he asks. “It’s quieter up there.”

            “Oh, sure,” I say, even though I’m now used to the volume here. But still, it’s nice to have some quiet. I look back at Christina and Will, who are watching us with worried eyes. I give them a reassuring smile before I go with Eric, who wraps his arm around my shoulder.

            I look back to see Four about to stand up, only to have two of his Dauntless companions grab his arms. He rips away from their hold and walks several yards behind us. I turn away as we get near the stairs. Eric has me go up first and I watch my step as we go up to the Pire.

            Looking down at the Pit, I see that Four is about to climb the stairs. Why is he eager to follow us? Is he afraid that Eric might do some serious damage? Eric and I walk towards the elevators and we enter the one on our right, and before the door closes, I see Four run towards us, only for the door to close just before the door closes in on his nose.

            I thought I hear a fist pounding the elevator door and Eric chuckles as I feel the elevator go up.

            “What was funny?” I ask.

            “It’s like Four thinks that I’m going to kill you and toss your body in the chasm,” says Eric. That was rather morbid. Four did tell me that he hoped I don’t go up to Eric’s apartment.

            I can’t imagine how Four will react when he hears that it will be my _third_ time when I go up to Eric’s apartment. The door opens to the third floor and we exit before three more Dauntless can enter the elevator.

            We both walk down the hallway and I stand behind him as he unlocks the door to his apartment. Upon entering his apartment, I get the sense of peace. It’s not as loud as the Pit.

            “I told you it was not as hectic,” he says.

            “It’s not,” I say, before I find myself going to his one of his bookshelves. Scanning the titles, I notice that I recognize some of them from school though there were others that I don’t recognize. I pull out an book out of random and see that it’s our old _Faction History_ textbook.

            “Feel like reading an old textbook?” he asks I sit on the couch.

            “I picked it out of random,” I answer, as he sits next to me.

            “Still, there is no harm in reading a textbook,” he replies.

            I open the book and at first, we’re sitting an foot apart though I don’t know how long it’s been until we’ve moved closer together, my back nearly pressing against his torso and my feet resting on the coffee table.

            It’s amazing that it escalated from meeting in the training room every morning to sitting in his apartment with my back pressed against his torso.

            “What was your rank?” I ask him, tearing my eyes away from the book to his. I ignore that my face is just mere inches away from his.

            “Second, and that was the final rankings,” he says.

            “Perhaps I might stay at a three until the final rankings,” I sigh.

            “Those that don’t come here initially psychically brave end up being more emotionally brave, since it’s about overcoming cowardice in general,” he says. “A true Dauntless doesn’t give up.”

            Four did say that stage two was more emotional, and I shudder to think what it is.

            I try to stifle an yawn.

            “I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            I nod as I stand up to leave. On my way to the dormitory, all I can think of is the image of Eric and I pressed up against each other on his couch and somehow that brings an smile to my face.

 

* * *

 

            After two hours of sleep, I hear a scuffle across the room and lift my head from the pillow. My eyes aren’t adjusted to the dark, so I stare into pure black, like the backs of my eyelids. I hear shuffling and the squeak of a shoe. A heavy thud.

            And then a wail that curdles my blood and makes my hair stand on end. I throw the blankets back and stand on the stone floor with bare feet. I still can’t see well enough to find the source of the scream, but I see a dark lump on the floor a few bed down. Another scream pierces my ears.

            “Turn on the lights!” someone shouts.

            I walk toward the sound, slowly so I don’t trip over anything. I feel like I’m in a trance. I don’t want to see where the screaming is coming from. A scream like that can only mean blood and bone and pain; that scream that comes from the pit of the stomach and extends to every inch of the body.

            The lights come on.

            Edward lies on the floor next to his bed, clutching at his face. Surrounding his head is a halo of blood, and jutting between his clawing fingers is a silver knife handle. My heart thumping in my ears, I recognize it as a butter knife from the dining hall. The blade is stuck in Edward’s eye.

            Myra, who stands at Edward’s feet, screams. Someone else screams too, and someone yells for help, and Edward is still on the floor, writhing and wailing. I crouch by his head, my knees pressing to the pool of blood, and put my hands on his shoulders.

            “Lie still,” I say. I feel calm, though I can’t hear anything, like my head is submerged in water.

            Edward thrashes again and I say it louder, sterner. “I said, lie still. Breathe.”

            “My eye!” he screams.

            I smell something foul. Someone vomited.

            “Take it out!” he yells. “Get it out, get it out of me, get it out!”

            I shake my head and then realize that he can’t see me. A laugh bubbles in my stomach. Hysterical. I have to suppress hysteria if I’m going to help him. I have to forget myself.

            “No,” I say. “You have to let the doctor take it out. Hear me? Let the doctor take it out. And breathe.”

            “It hurts,” he sobs.

            “I know it does.” Instead of my voice I hear my mother’s voice. I see her crouching before me on the sidewalk in front of our house, brushing tears from my face after I scraped my knee. I was five at the time.

            “It will be all right.” I try to sound firm, like I’m not idly reassuring him, but I am. I don’t know if it will be all right. I suspect that it won’t.

            When the nurse arrives, she tells me to step back, and I do. My hands and knees are soaked with blood. When I look around, I see that only two faces are missing.

            Drew.

            And Peter.

  


 

 

 


	9. Chapter Nine

After they take Edward away, I carry a change of clothes into the bathroom and wash my hands. Christina comes with me and stands by the door, but she doesn’t say anything, and I’m glad. There isn’t much to say.

            I scrub at the lines in my palms and run one fingernail under my other fingernails to get the blood out. I change into another pair of pants and throw the soiled ones in the trash. I get as many paper towels as I can hold. Someone needs to clean up the mess in the dormitory, and since I doubt I’ll ever be able to sleep again, it might as well be me.

            As I reach for the door handle, Christina says, “You know who did that, right?”

            “Yeah.” It had to be Peter and Drew, since their absence was incriminating enough.

            “Should we tell someone?”

            I think about that one. Eric did tell me to report something if it involved me, but he didn’t say that shouldn’t report incidents involving others. I nod. “I’ll tell Eric in the morning. To see what he says.”

            “I would tell Four, since it’s less likely that Eric will do anything,” says Christina.

            I could see why Christina would think that, concerning that Eric wanted Four to throw knives at Al. But I don’t want to face Four after he saw me go to Eric’s apartment, so I’ll tell Eric instead, though I nod to Christina anyway.

            For a half hour after that, I kneel alone on the floor in the dormitory and scrub at Edward’s blood. Christina throws away the dirty paper towels and gets me new ones. Myra is gone; she probably followed Edward to the hospital.

            No one sleeps much that night.

 

* * *

 

            Early that next morning, at eight in the morning, I get changed and go up to the Pire. If no one else is going to tell the leaders, I’m going to. It’s actually cowardly if one doesn’t say anything about it.

            The other Dauntless pay no mind to me as we ride up the elevator to the tenth floor. I dig my fingernails into my palm out of apprehension; I don’t know what to expect from this. The elevator door slides open and I follow the others out.

            It’s not long before I reach the hallway where the offices of the leaders and the conference room is at, but before I could knock on Eric’s office room door to see if it’s occupied, I hear an conversation.

            “She did display some Abnegation selflessness an few days ago, but it could mean anything,” I hear Eric say.

            “It’s not very prudent to ignore signs of someone not conforming to their faction of choice, especially a transfer initiate,” someone replies. A female voice; cold and familiar, but familiar like a dream, not a real person.

            “It’s only been a week and it takes some time for someone to adjust to their new faction,” says Eric. “A lot can happen by the initiation ceremony.”

            “I don’t blame you for not wanting to lose someone who you took under your wing the first week, however there are precautions we have to take,” says the voice.

            My blood goes cold when I realize that it’s me they are talking about.

            “I want you to administer Beatrice Prior’s fear simulations for stage two, to specifically look for anything that would suggest that she’s Divergent,” says the voice in reply. “If there is any anomalies, let me know and don’t delete one unless you have a valid reason.”

            I run towards the end of the hall and lean against the wall, breathing deeply. Four was right. Eric was planted here to look for Divergents.

            I could just go back to the Pit, but it’s my goal to tell Eric about what happened. I shouldn’t let him know what I heard. I pull away from the wall and compose myself before walking the corridor. I don’t want them to think that I overheard.

            Just as I approach the door, it opens and I see a blonde woman in Erudite blue exit the office, holding a leather folder to her side. My blood chills when I recognize her. She’s Jeanine Matthews, head leader of the Erudite. That’s who the voice belongs to.

            “I’ll meet with you and Max at the end of stage two to look at incriminating footage,” she says. “I have no doubts that –”

            She stops when she sees me, and her lips curl into an cool smile. “What is that you need, child?”

            She says it like a Lower Levels teacher would ask an child why they are reading an book that’s beyond their reading level. It’s patronizing.

            “I was just about to tell Eric something, and I didn’t know…” I say, pretending to be an clueless initiate.

            “I’m sure it’s about what happened last night,” says Eric, appearing at the doorway. “She probably has an idea on who did it.”

            How does he know what happened? Did someone alert him to it last night?

            “Well, I will leave for you to address the matter,” says Jeanine coolly before she looks at me again. “Hopefully I meet with you again, Ms…?”

            “Beatrice Prior,” I say. It’s my old name but I heard that the Erudite have an aversion to nicknames.

            And I would rather not encounter her again.

            She turns back to Eric, saying, “If you have any questions for me, call me at my office.” She walks down the corridor, her heels echoing on the floor. Eric quickly pulls me in, like it’s dangerous for me to be out here.

            “Did you overhear our conversation?” he asks as I slump into the hard-backed that sits in front of his desk. It doesn’t even sound remotely threatening. He sounds agitated and concerned.

            “No,” I say, playing coy.

            His grey eyes bore into mine, like he’s trying to peel every layer of me for the truth. Then he nods, but it’s like he doesn’t believe me.

            “Now, is this about this incident involving Edward?” he asks, sitting down.

            “How do you know about this?” I ask.

            “The night supervisor of the control room alerted me to the incident shortly after midnight,” Eric answers. “One of the control room operators saw it happen, though we couldn’t see the perpetrators’ faces clearly. I told them that I’ll take care of it after I find out who it was. Do you have any ideas who it was?”

            “Peter and Drew,” I answer without hesitation. “They were absent when the lights went on.”

            “If it’s Peter and he just used one of his stupid friends as a muscle, it shouldn’t surprise me,” says Eric. “I’ll talk with them this afternoon, and tell them that if it was them, and if they attack an initiate again, they’ll face serious consequences.”

            “That’s it?” I demand, standing from my chair.

            “Since we can’t prove it’s them, unfortunately, all that we can give them is a warning,” says Eric, who doesn’t look happy about it as I am.

            “What about Edward?” I ask.

            “Stage two is set to begin in tomorrow,” says Eric. “Good thing it was one eye, though technically, I don’t know how he could continue partially blind. I’m not going to cut him. I’ll let that be something for him to decide on his own.”

 

* * *

 

            When I arrive at the infirmary, I see that Four is already sitting at Edward’s bed. From an distance, I see the guilt on his eyes. Why’s he guilty? He didn’t stab him in the eye with a butter knife.

            I’m about to leave when I hear Four shout, “Tris!”

            I turn to see him walk towards me, his fists balled up. “I know who did it,” I tell him.

            “I was going to ask you about you leaving the Pit with Eric last night,” he spits out. “I specifically told you not to –”

            “That was just the third time I’ve been up there, and he did nothing to hurt me,” I defend.

            “You’ve gone up there three times?” asks Four through gritted teeth.

            “And he’s done nothing to hurt me,” I say.

            “How can I be sure that you’re telling the truth?” he demands.

            “Would I lie?” I argue. “Yes, he’s ruthless and I acknowledge that he’s arrogant, but he didn’t hurt me during the moments he had so many opportunities to.”

            I realize how naïve that sounds, especially after I overheard Jeanine tell Eric that he should personally oversee my stage two training.

            Four is about to say something until the infirmary door opens and in comes Peter. I tense up and look at him with revulsion when he approaches Edward’s bed. Peter’s eyes widen, like he’s horrified at what happened when I know better.

            “What the hell happened to his eye?” asks Peter.

            “An butter knife was lodged in his eye,” I answer before I could stop myself. “Where were you and Drew when it happened?”

            “Don’t get too excited, Stiff,” says Peter. “Drew and I were just watching the Dauntless get sauced near the chasm. Like, I don’t understand why they would just hang around the railing too intoxicated.”

            I don’t believe him, because who else could have stabbed Edward in the eye. It couldn’t be Al. He was depressed about his rank last night, but he wouldn’t stab out someone’s eye for it. I scoff and walk out of the infirmary.

 

* * *

 

            I meet with Will in the dining hall. Al and Christina are nowhere in sight. Probably taking naps in the dormitory.

            “Morning,” I say, suppressing a yawn.

            “Did you get any sleep?” asks Will as I sit down.

            I shake my head as I grab for a muffin. “I couldn’t get enough sleep.”

            “I don’t know why anyone would after what happened last night,” Will replies. Personally, I don’t know how one could sleep at night knowing that they stabbed someone in the eye with a butter knife.

            “Did you visit Edward?” asks Will.

            “Yes, but he was asleep,” I answer, it’s only half the truth, but I don’t feel like discussing my encounter with Four. “Peter came and acted surprised. He said that he and Drew were watching the Dauntless get drunk when it happened. I didn’t believe him.”

            “He probably came there to gloat.” Will shakes his head. “No one likes being second best, but there are better ways of handling it.”

           

* * *

 

            They announced the cuts after breakfast. Al was supposed to get cut, but I heard that Edward willingly dropped out, thus sparing him. Hopefully stage two isn’t too hard for him, since it isn’t physical training. He won’t be knocking someone out cold.

            Looking at the ranks in the dormitory, I have seen that Peter is now first, and that I’m now second. They say no one wants to be second best, but I would rather have an low rank and pass initiation than having an low rank and get cut from initiation.

            “It shouldn’t surprise me that Peter would lie his way out of it,” says Christina in disgust as we head towards the dining hall. “Watching the Dauntless get drunk by the chasm. Do you know how it fails on so many levels?”

            “Exactly,” I say. “It couldn’t have been Al or anyone else.”

            “I told you he was pure evil,” says Christina. “Hopefully they saved some chocolate cake for us.”

            “Excuse me. Are you Beatrice Prior?” I hear someone ask formally.

            I turn to see an Erudite man standing an few feet away, wearing the trademark glasses and the professional, blue suit, and in his hands are an notepad and an pen. Heat rushes through me when I guess why an Erudite reporter could be here and hopefully that’s not the case.

            “Yes?” I ask, folding my arms against my chest.

            “Miss Prior, did you and your brother leave under the same circumstances to that as Marcus Eaton’s son?” he asks.

            Heat licks up my throat in response to the insinuation that my father abused us. “I apologize, but if you think that my father beat me and my brother, you’re on thin ice,” I answer, not bothering to hide my anger in my tone. I’m dimly aware of Eric and another Dauntless man standing by me

            He mutters something and writes something down on his notepad before adjusting his spectacles. “Do you have any criticisms about the Abnegation running the government?”

            I pull my fist back –

            Two pairs of hands grab my arms, and I struggle towards the Erudite man, and their grip tightens. “That’s my former faction you’re talking about, you _idiot_!”

            I’m dragged across the Pit and Eric forces me onto an slab that’s fused into the stone wall. “There’s no need to make an scene, Tris,” says Eric, sitting next to me.

            “Did you hear what he was asking?” I demand. “He insinuated that the reason my brother and I transferred was the same as Tobias Eaton’s transfer.”

            “He was an idiot, yes, but nothing would get solved by punching him in the eye,” Eric replies.

            “I would have loved to have seen that though,” says Eric’s companion, looking amused. “That would have been nice to see his glasses break.”

            “Shut up, Sean,” snaps Eric before looking at me. “I think you’ll feel better if you put food in your stomach.”

            I nod and stand up, rubbing my arms. I know I need to eat, though I don’t know whether it will abate my anger. When we approach Christina, she just glowers at Eric. “Was that really necessary?”

            “If you knew better, you would understand that I didn’t want to spend my afternoon explaining to Jeanine Matthews why an initiate punched one of her reporters,” says Eric.

            Christina just rolls her eyes but doesn’t reply as she stands at my other side.

            When I enter the dining hall, we’re greeted by Four, who looks taxed. “I thought I heard something going on in the Pit.”

            “Some idiot from Erudite thought it would be prudent to interview Tris,” says Eric. “Sean and I had to pull her away before she could punch him in the eye.”

            “Was that actually necessary? You don’t need two people to manhandle her away from him,” Four demands.

            Eric’s eyes harden. “Shouldn’t you be with your friends?”

            “No, I wasn’t in the mood to zip line,” answers Four.

            Sensing a fight, I grab Christina and drag her away, as I desire not to get in the middle of it.

            “I didn’t think Sean would have a poor choice of friends,” says Christina, eyeing him as he walked away from Eric and Four.

            “You know him?” I ask.

            She shrugs. “He was an neighbor. He and his girlfriend Jocelyn transferred from Candor two years ago. If you want to know what they were like, they were the antithesis of Drew and Molly. Hopefully they haven’t been reduced to Eric’s yes-men.”

            Leave it to Christina to give you information about those from Candor. After going through the food line, we both meet with Al and Will, who were waiting for us.

            “Someone came in an few minutes ago and said something about an initiate almost punching an Erudite reporter,” says Will. He looks at me. “Was that you?”

            “Yes, but Eric and his friend restrained me before I could punch him and break his glasses,” I answer.

            “Why would the Erudite come here and ask you questions if you’re not an part of Abnegation anymore?” asks Al.

            “Because they are a bunch of idiots, Al,” I answer flatly.

 

 

 

           


	10. Chapter Ten

            I spent that afternoon resting to make up for the lost sleep after last night’s incident and halfway through dinner, I watch as windswept Dauntless-born initiates and Dauntless members enter the cafeteria, their eyes bright and looking as though they have experienced something powerful.

            “Why couldn’t we have joined them?” asks Christina, stabbing her cake with her fork as she looks at them with envy.

            “We might get to zip line after we pass initiation,” I say wistfully before turning away. It would have been frightening, but exciting at the same time to experiment that type of adrenaline.

            When I exit the cafeteria behind Will and Christina, I feel an hand touch my shoulder and I look up to see Eric.

            “Is everything okay?” he asks, his eyes full of concern.

            He’s talking about the incident involving the Erudite reporter before lunch. “I’m fine, I guess.” I scratch the back of my neck with my fingers.

            “Tris, there is always the training room if you feel like you want to punch something,” he suggests.

            “Are initiates even allowed to enter them, though?” I ask.

            “They can’t go in after six, though if something makes you angry, feel free to use the knives, targets, and the punching bags,” he says.

            It’s good to have advice, to not have someone condemn you for your impulses, and that feeling is more pronounced considering that it’s someone that people want me to avoid.

            “Thank you,” I say, gratefully.

            “Be sure to get enough sleep, because stage two is bound to wear you out,” says Eric.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Four approaches me as I get the food at the breakfast line. He looks as if he received bad news.

            “Stage two starts today,” he says stiffly.

            “Yeah, so?” I ask.

            “Be careful, because I heard that Eric is going to be personally overseeing your training,” he says.

            While I already know that, I take on a look of surprise. “Oh, he didn’t tell me.”

            “Just don’t do anything stupid,” says Four quietly. “He already has you under a microscope as it is.”

            What would I do? This isn’t stage one it’s not like I’m going to…unless he suspects that I’m Divergent as well, but what would have to do with stage two? It probably has something to do with stage two if Jeanine wants Eric to oversee my stage two training.

            I shudder as I walk away from the food line and I sit at a table to wait for my friends.

 

* * *

 

            As far as I can tell, the second stage of initiation involves sitting in a dark hallway with the other initiates, wondering what’s going to happen behind a closed door.

            Uriah sits across from me, with Marlene on his left and Lynn on his right. The Dauntless-born initiates and the transfers were separated during stage one, but we will be training together from now on. That’s what Four told us before he disappeared behind the door.

            “So,” says Lynn, scuffing the floor with her shoe. “Which one of you is ranked first, huh?”

            Her question is met with silence at first, and then Peter clears his throat.

            “Me,” he says. I scoff at that, knowing that the only reason he ranked first because he stabbed Edward’s eye out.

            “Bet I could take you.” She says it casually, turning the ring in her eyebrow with her fingertips. “I’m second, but I bet any of us could take you, transfer.”

            I almost laugh. If I was still Abnegation, her comment would be rude and out of place, but among the Dauntless, challenges like that seem common. I am almost starting to expect them.

            “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, if I were you,” Peter says, his eyes glittering. “Who’s first?”

            “Uriah,” she says. “And I am sure. You know how many years we’ve spent preparing for this?”

            If she intends to intimidate us, it works. I already feel colder.

            Before Peter can respond, Four opens the door and says, “Lynn.” He beckons to her, and she walks down the hallway and she disappears behind the door.

            “So you’re first,” Will says to Uriah.

            Uriah shrugs. “Yeah. And?”

            “And you don’t think it’s a little unfair that you’ve spent your entire life getting ready for this, and we’re expected to learn it all in a few weeks?” Will says, his eyes narrowing.

            “Not really. Stage one was about skill, sure, but no one can prepare for stage two,” he says. “At least, so I’m told.”

            No one responds to that. We sit in silence for twenty minutes. I count each minute on my watch. Then the door opens again, and Four calls another name.

            “Peter,” he says.

            Each minute wears into me like a scrape of sandpaper. After Will’s turn, the door opens, but this time, I see Eric.

            “Come on, Tris.”

            I stand and walk past the other initiates. Drew sticks out his leg to trip me, but I hop over it at the last second.

            Eric places his hand on my lower back and guides me into the room and closes the door behind me. When I see what’s inside, I recoil immediately, almost bumping into him.

            In the room is a reclining metal chair, similar to the one I sat in during the aptitude test. Beside it is a familiar machine. The room looks very different from the rest of the compound, as the floors are a white tile and the walls are pearly white, which causes the orange light to reflect off them.

            “Don’t worry, it’s not going to bite you,” he says. “Have a seat.”

            “What’s the simulation?” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I don’t succeed.

            “We are taking the phrase ‘face your fears’ to a literal level,” he answers. “Stage one was just about physical skill, but stage two focuses on the emotional aspect of bravery. The purpose of this simulation is to help control your emotions in the midst of your worst nightmare. If you break down, I don’t blame you. It’s rather unpleasant.”

            The whole fear simulation makes sense now, but right now, the idea of facing my fears is more frightening then what Jeanine wants Eric to do.

            I touch a wavering hand to my forehead. It takes all the willpower I have for me to steer myself toward the chair and sit down in it again, pressing my skull into the headrest.

            The cold from the metal seeps through my clothes.

            “Have you considered administrating the aptitude tests after your initiation?” I ask. Due to his Erudite background and the fact that Jeanine wants him to administrate my fear simulations, he seems qualified.

            “No,” he answers. “That wasn’t and still isn’t my interest to administer aptitude tests. I find it taxing.”

            “Why?”

            “You wouldn’t want some Erudite dependent or Erudite-to-be to ask about what your tattoo means, would you?” he asks me curiously.

            I think about my question to Tori about the raven tattoo. I’m sure she’s not the only one that gets asked that.

            “No, because what if the meaning is personal?” I ask, thinking of the ravens on the side of my collarbone.

            “Exactly,” he answers. His fingers brush my neck. My body tenses. A tender gesture? No – he has to move my hair to the side. He taps something, and I tilt my head back to see what it is. Eric holds a syringe with a long needle in one hand, his thumb against the plunger. The liquid in the syringe is tinted orange.

            “An injection?” My mouth goes dry. I don’t usually mind needles, but this one is huge.

            “This isn’t like the aptitude tests where they use wires and electrodes,” he answers. “We wouldn’t have a use for them.”

            “How does it work without wires?”

            “The wires are only used to see what’s going on, but Dauntless fear serum contains a transmitter that will send data to the computer.”

            He turns my arm over and eases the tip of the needle into the tender skin on the side of my neck. A deep ache spreads through my throat. I wince and try to focus on his face.

            “This will go effect in sixty seconds. As you know, this simulation is completely different from the aptitude test,” he says. “The serum stimulates amygdala, which is the part of the brain involved in processing negative emotions – like fear – and then induces a hallucination. The electrical activity of the brain will be then transmitted to the computer monitors to project the simulated image. After which, I will forward the recording of your simulation to the Dauntless computer servers, unless something happens, like you going under the weather, which I heard can be common for initiates during the first time. You stay in the simulation until you lower your heart rate and control your breathing.”

            I try to follow his words, but my thoughts are going haywire. I feel the trademark symptoms of fear: sweaty palms, racing heart, tightness in my chest, dry mouth, a lump in my throat, difficulty breathing. He plants his hands on either side of my head and leans over me.

            “Be brave, Tris,” he says.

 

* * *

 

           

_The pain overwhelms me._

I open my eyes, still horrified of being reduced into a pecked carcass by the crows, and I am sitting in the metal chair.

I scream and hit my arms and head and legs to get the birds off me, but they are gone, though I can still feel the feathers brushing the back of my neck and the talons in my shoulder and my burning skin. I moan and pull my knees to my chest, burying my face in them.

A hand touches my shoulder, and I fling a fist out, hitting something solid but soft. “Don’t touch me!” I sob.

I feel a hand about to touch my head before he draws his hand away. I doubt Eric has ever been in the room with an initiate during this, and his treatment towards initiates during stage one is probably the reason: he would show no patience.

I run my palms along my arms, still brushing off feathers, though I know there aren’t any. I rock back and forth in the metal chair.

“Tris,” he says awkwardly after a minute. “Let’s go on a walk, okay? I’ll take you out the back door.”

“I don’t need you to…” I shake my head. My body is trembling and I feel so weak I’m not sure I can stand, but I have to try.

“Nonsense.”

He grabs my arm and hauls me out of the chair. I blink the tears from my eyes, wipe my cheeks with the heel of my hand, and let him steer me toward the door behind the computer screen.

We walk down the hallway in silence. When we’re a few hundred yards away from the room, I yank my arm away and stop.

“Why did you do that to me?” I say, shoving my hands into his chest. “What was the point of that, huh? I wasn’t aware that when I chose Dauntless, I was signing up for weeks of torture!”

“That’s what’s ugly about Dauntless initiation: being exposed to your worst nightmares,” Eric explains. “However, it will be worth it in the end. How can you overcome cowardice without being exposed to your nightmares? Overcoming cowardice isn’t easy.”

“That isn’t overcoming cowardice! Cowardice is how you decide to be in real life, and in real life, I am not getting pecked to death by crows, Eric!” I press my palms to my face and sob into them.

At first, he just stands there as I cry before he sits beside me and touches an shoulder with his hand. It only takes me a few seconds to stop and wipe my face again. “I want to go home,” I say weakly.

But home is not an option anymore. My choices are here or the factionless slums. And I’m an idiot for crumbling like this, especially in front of him.

“This thing is new for you, I get it, but the point of stage two is to think in the midst of fear,” he explains. “Reality isn’t pleasant, Tris, something that you need to learn.”

“I’m trying.” My lower lip trembles. “But I failed. I’m failing.”

He chuckles, as if I’m an idiot to think that. “How long do you think you spent in that hallucination, Tris?”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “A half hour?”

“Three minutes,” he replies. “It’s three times faster than the other initiates, and that isn’t failing.”

Three minutes?

“This was just day one,” he says. “The second or third time is when one gets better.”

“Tomorrow or the day after that?” I ask him.

He touches my back and guides me toward the hallway that leads to the Pit. I feel his fingertips through my shirt. Their gentle pressure makes me forget the birds for a moment.

“What was your first hallucination?” I ask before I stop myself.

“That’s not a question I want to answer,” he says flippantly.

“I’m sorry. That was too bold,” I apologize, lowering my head.

“It’s natural that you’ll be curious, but fear is something that’s too intimate to share,” he says. “It’s like you’re stripping naked, thus becoming vulnerable.”

I understand what he means, since your fears could be used against you by your enemies.

“Also, your fears come in symbolic form,” he continues.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are you really afraid of crows?” he asks, smiling like it amuses him. The expression warms his eyes, which are usually cold. “When you see one, do you run away screaming your lungs out?”

“So what am I really afraid of?” I say.

“Think about it,” he smirks.

I nod slowly. There are a dozen things it could be, but I’m not sure which one is right, or if there’s even one right one. Then I think about my powerlessness against the crows during the simulation.

“I think I fear being powerless,” I say.

“Trust me, that’s an common Dauntless fear,” says Eric in assurance. “Only that they come in many forms.”

“I didn’t know becoming Dauntless would be this difficult,” I say, and a second later, I am surprised that I said it; surprised that I admitted to it. I bite the inside of my cheek and watch Eric carefully.

“The level of difficulty depends on the virtue that the particular faction practices,” says Eric. “To practice all the five individually is difficult, but bravery is the hardest to practice, because it’s natural to coil away in fear when you face your nightmares.”

I never thought of that like that. That it depends on the virtue of the faction and how many they admit.

“I didn’t think it would be too easy though,” I admit.

“ _Nothing_ is easy,” he confirms.

 

* * *

 

I arrive back to the dormitory, but Peter is already waiting by the door.

“Trying to hide the fact that you’re a coward, Stiff?” he asks, leering at me.

“Shut up!” I yell, pushing him to the wall with one hand.

I stomp to my bed.

“Come on, Stiff, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he says in mock sympathy as I sit down on my bed. “I nearly wet myself during my simulation and I’m sure you cried for your parents.”

“I’m not five,” I argue.

“Guys, just stop,” says Will, before glaring at Peter. “Are you just trying to get a rise out of her or what?”

“Fights are natural, you Nose,” says Peter. “You’ve just been behind a book for too long.” He looks back at me. “Oh, and speaking about your parents, Stiff, they made some news.”

He takes out a paper and throws it at my face. I pick it up from the bed, knowing that if I don’t read it, Peter will broadcast it to every initiate:

**_Children of Abnegation councilman transfer from Abnegation. A further sign of corruption._ **

_The mass exodus of the children of Abnegation leaders cannot be ignored or attributed to coincidence. The recent transfer of Beatrice and Caleb Prior, the children of Andrew Prior, calls into question the soundness of Abnegation’s values and teachings_.

Cold creeps up my spine. My father. Now the Erudite are attacking my father.

_Why else would children of such an important man decide that the lifestyle he has set out for them is not an admirable one?_ _Molly Atwood, a fellow Dauntless transfer, suggests a disturbed and abusive upbringing might be to blame. ‘I heard her talking in her sleep once,’ Molly says. ‘She was telling her father to stop doing something. I don’t know what it was, but it gave her nightmares.’”_

This is Molly’s revenge. Good thing she is not here, or else I would pound on her.

_We asked Beatrice Prior for confirmation of these allegations and if she had criticisms about her former faction, she was restrained before punching one of our reporters. Violent tempers are an trademark sign of abuse and her demeanor confirmed that child abuse wasn’t an isolated incident that occurred in the Eaton home._

_However, perhaps the answer lies not in a morally bereft man, but in the corrupted ideals of an entire faction. Perhaps the answer is that we trusted our city to a group of proselytizing tyrants who do not know how to lead us out of poverty and into prosperity._

“The truth hurts, does it?” I hear Molly leer. I look up to see her sitting on her bed, smirking, like she hasn’t gone through her fears.

I jump from my bed, and storm towards Molly, hoping to throw myself at her and land an punch to her face, but before I can do so, cold hands close around my waist.

            “That’s my _father_!” I scream. “My father, you coward!”

            Will pulls me away and drags me out of the room and into the hallway, his fingernails digging into my skin. Once the door shuts behind him, he lets go, and I shove him as hard as I can.

            “What? Did you think I couldn’t defend myself against that piece of Candor trash?”

            “No,” says Will. He stands in front of the door. “I figured I’d stop you from starting a brawl in the dormitory. Calm down.”

            I laugh a little. “Calm down? Calm _down_? That’s my _family_ they’re talking about, that’s my _faction_!”

            “No, it’s not.” There are dark circles under his eyes; he looks exhausted. “It’s your old faction, and there’s nothing you can do about what they say, so you might as well just ignore it.”

            “Were you even listening?” The heat in my cheeks is gone, and my breaths are more even now. “Your stupid ex-faction isn’t just insulting Abnegation anymore. They’re calling for an overthrow of the entire government.”

            Will laughs. “No, they’re not. They’re arrogant and dull, and that’s why I left them, but they aren’t revolutionaries. They just want more say, that’s all, and they resent Abnegation for refusing to listen to them.”

            “They don’t want people to listen, they want people to agree,” I reply. “And you shouldn’t bully people into agreeing with you.” I touch my palms to my cheeks. “I can’t believe my brother joined them.”

            “Hey. They’re not all bad,” he says sharply.

            I nod, but I don’t believe him. I can’t imagine anyone emerging from the Erudite unscathed, though Will seems all right. Then I remember Edward telling me that Erudite is divided on the Abnegation. Perhaps Will is right; they are not all that bad.

            “I just need some air,” I say, before standing up and walking away. I don’t tell him where I’m going, though.


	11. Chapter Eleven

            My head clears by the time I enter Eric’s apartment. I take off my rubber band and shake it from its knot before slumping on the couch. At least in here, I can find some peace and not have to deal with the likes of Peter and his lackeys.

            I sigh before standing up and going to the bookshelves. The only things I ever read were textbooks and that book that Eric gave me. I run my fingers over the bindings, trying to see what catches my eye.

            Looking through his selection of books, it’s as if Eric prefers non-fiction over fiction, since he has a lot of books covering science, history, sociology, and psychology. I pull out a book out of random and I see that it’s titled _History of the Ancient World_.

            I run my hands over the book cover and sit in the couch. Reading books for leisure would be alien and self-indulgent if I were still in Abnegation, but here it’s not for academic purposes like for Erudite. I prop my legs on the coffee table as I open the book and begin to read.

            For the Abnegation, the mind usually wanders when reading, though it doesn’t for me. I would get sucked into textbooks then what was necessary for someone from my former faction, and I didn’t tell anyone. If I told Caleb, he would at least understand fixation about books.

            I don’t know how long I sat here, but I was deeply engrossed about the topic of the Ancient Romans that I jumped and removed my feet from the coffee table when I hear the doorknob turn.

            It’s just Eric.

            “Lunch starts in two minutes and your friends have been looking for you,” he tells me.

            “I told one of them that I was just looking for air.” I set down the book on the coffee table. “It’s no use getting antagonized.”

            He seems to know what I mean. “You found out about that report that the Erudite released this morning.”

            “And it’s not true!” I shout. “My parents would never abuse me and my brother! Anyone who believes it is an idiot! I never had nightmares, and if Molly thinks she had anything to gain, if the Erudite stained my father’s reputation, she succeeded.”

            “The Marcus Eaton card is rather unoriginal, not that I don’t believe it,” says Eric, sitting down next to me. “If it’s just the word of one person, chances are that it’s not true.”

            Relief fills me upon finding out that he doesn’t believe it. “I just wonder how my parents are taking this. It’s not like they were slandered before.”

            “They probably wouldn’t let it affect them, and besides, I doubt they will draw attention to themselves.” He tucks an lock behind my ear and I look at him. Our faces are mere inches from each other that I could feel his breath, and I find myself looking down at his lips.

            I don’t know who moved first, but seconds later, our lips touch each other. I stiffen for a few seconds, before I return the kiss. I put my hands on his shoulders as I feel my heart pound in my chest.

            The kiss deepens as I feel his arm go around my back, pulling me closer to him. I wrap my arms around his neck. When our lips separate I’m out of breath.

            His fingers touch the corners of my face and he tilts my head up.

            “Why?” I ask him. “Why did you kiss me?”

            “It was something that I always wanted to do,” he replies, running his hand down the side of my face. I gently put my hand around his.

            “I’ve just never kissed someone before,” I tell him. I’ve seen Caleb and Susan tentatively flirt during my time in Abnegation, and all my parents did were graze hands in front of me and Caleb. I never thought that I would be intimate with anyone.

            “What? You didn’t have an boyfriend back at Abnegation?” asks Eric, curling his lips in an amused smile.

            “If I did, we wouldn’t kiss, at least not like this,” I reply.

            “Looks like we’re going to fix that,” he says. He brushes his lips against mine.

            “You’re my leader and I am just an initiate,” I point out. “Is this considered inappropriate in Dauntless standards?”

            “If we don’t do anything in public before the initiation ceremony, they won’t think anything of it,” he tells me.

            For me, that answer was good enough.

 

* * *

 

            I walk into the cafeteria ten minutes into lunchtime.

            “Where have you been?” Christina demands as I drop into an seat between Al and Will. “We were looking all over for you and since I couldn’t find Four, I had to ask Eric if he knew where you were.”

            “I just took an walk,” I answer, taking an muffin. “I just needed to clear my head.”

            “Peter and Molly were gloating when I came back to the dormitory,” says Al. “Did they do anything?”

            “Peter gave me that report that the Erudite released about my father,” I say. “I read it because he would read it out loud to the other initiates.”

            “You should have punched that Erudite reporter, Tris,” says Christina. “Eric should have at least stood out of the way.”

            I allow myself to blur their chatter as I drift to my thoughts. Kissing Eric would be considered as lowering my guard down. It didn’t help the fact that he is also one of the Dauntless leaders.

            But I don’t regret it at the same time.

            If he was an Abnegation boy and I was an Abnegation girl, I would have gone over to his house and help his mother with the housework and stay over there for dinner. Probably flirt the way Susan and Caleb used to.

            However, I’m still alien to how the Dauntless do things, like flirtation, though I have seen couples kiss passionately in full view during mealtimes. While sexuality is discreet in Abnegation, the Dauntless are not afraid to express it. They kiss without worrying what others will think.

            I don’t know how they view things in Erudite, though. I don’t know how they view love, though I have seen young Erudite couples kiss and hold hands while out in the city center. Only that they don’t make out like the Dauntless do.

            “So, Tris, hopefully you don’t have reservations about getting an tattoo tonight,” I hear Christina say to me, drifting me out of my thoughts.

            I look at her. “I don’t. I can’t be an Stiff forever if I want to pass initiation.”

 

* * *

 

            It’s around six at night, and as planned, the four of us go to the tattoo parlor. Deciding that I should show my alliance to my new faction, I select the Dauntless tattoo. Looking around, I see that there is only one tattoo artist – an Dauntless woman with blond streaks in her brown wavy hair – available, since Tori is already having her hands full with someone else; same with the second person.

            “I want this on my shoulder,” I tell her.

            She looks at the picture of the Dauntless tattoo. “Which shoulder?”

            “The right,” I answer.

            “Looks like I can do this,” she says. “Sit down, and move your hair to your left shoulder. I need to be able to see what I’m doing.”

            I sit down and move my hair as she prepares the needle.

            “My name is Jocelyn, in case that helps,” she introduces. Christina mentioned her.

            “I’m Tris.”

            “Oh, the first jumper,” she says, looking at me like she’s impressed. “That really beats the stereotype about Stiffs. Also, Eric just won’t shut up about you at times.”

            “You know Eric?” I ask, becoming unsettled at that pronouncement.

            “I and my boyfriend Sean have known him since the three of us were initiates,” she replies. Relief fills me. “Eric was the only Erudite transfer two years ago, though Sean and I were among the three Candor transfers. We only had six in our transfer class.”

            “That’s small,” I comment.

            “Technically ten people chosen Dauntless, but two couldn’t catch up to the train and two of Eric’s fellow former Erudite both chickened out when it was time for us to jump off,” she answers. “Probably didn’t have aptitude for Dauntless.”

            “Did you know an Abnegation transfer named Tobias Eaton?” I ask as I feel the needle touch the skin of my shoulder.

            “There was one that called himself Four, and he was the only Abnegation transfer that year,” she answers. “Some people here think that Four and Tobias are the same person, and it’s not far-fetched to think that he is.”

            So, Tobias Eaton and Four are the same person. I wouldn’t mention it to him, though.

            “So, what has Eric said about me?” I ask.

            “That you’re one tough cookie,” she answers. “Also, how he’s been personally training you for stage one.”

            “He probably bragged that he’s the reason why I improved,” I deduce.

            “Being the arrogant asshole he is.” She says it lightheartedly, like it’s not an insult. “He likes to brag about almost everything. He can be an show off at times too, but that’s Eric I guess.”

            In Dauntless, it’s obvious that they do things differently here. They probably call their friends ‘jerks’ and ‘assholes’ just for the fun of it. In Abnegation, profanity of the type is considered ‘dirty’, though I find myself being desensitized by it.

            “Eric isn’t such a jerk to those he’s on good terms with,” I tell her.

            “True, and he does have his moments of where he isn’t such an prat,” she says, “though it’s subtle.”

 

* * *

 

            The next day, I breathe through my nose. In, out. In.

            “This is just another simulation, Tris,” Eric assures me. He looks at me rather expectantly, but I don’t know what he means by that.

Also, he’s wrong. The last simulation bled into my life, waking and sleeping. Nightmares, not just featuring the crows but the feelings I had in the simulation – terror and helplessness. Sudden fits of terror in the shower, at breakfast, on the way here. Nails bitten down so far my nail beds ache. And I am not the only one who feels this way; I can tell.

Still I nod and close my eyes.

 

* * *

 

I am in darkness. The last thing I remember is the metal chair and the needle in my arm. This time there is no field; there are no crows. My heart pounds in anticipation. What monsters will creep from the darkness and steal my rationality? How long will I have to wait for them?

A blue orb lights up a few feet ahead of me, and then another one, filling the room with light. I am on the Pit floor, next to the chasm, and the initiates stand around me, their arms folded and their faces makes my throat feel tight.

I see something in front of me – my own faint reflection. I touch it, and my fingers find glass, cool and smooth.

            Then I feel something wet on my shoe. I look down and see water gushing from pipes. I stand back, only for my back to hit something solid. Looking up, I see a pane. I’m in a glass tank.

            The water rises fast. It now covers my ankles. I pound against the glass with my fist.

            “Hey!” I say. “Let me out of here!”

            The water slides up my calves as it rises, cold and soft. I hit the glass harder.

            “Get me out of here!”

            I stare at Christina. She leans over to Peter, who stands beside her, and whispers something in his ear. They both laugh.

            The water covers my thighs. I pound both fists against the glass. I’m not trying to get their attention anymore; I’m trying to break out. Frantic, I bang against the glass as hard as I can. I step back and throw my shoulder against the wall, once, twice, three times, four times. I hit the wall until my shoulder aches, screaming for help, watching the water rise to my waist, my ribcage, my chest.

            I slap the glass. I will not die in this tank. I drag my shaking hands through my hair. I decide to stop pounding the glass, since it will be pointless.

            My body rises, weightless in the water. I float closer to the ceiling and tilt my head as the water covers my chin. Gasping, I press my face to the glass above me, sucking in as much air as I can. Then the water covers me, sealing me in the box.

            I sink. Water is filling my mouth…but it’s not going into my nose. I turn around in the tank, and I gaze at my reflection. I don’t feel like I’m drowning either.

            “This isn’t real,” I say, touching the glass. I just tap the glass. It cracks under my finger. I keep tapping it until the glass completely shatters, causing the water to spill out, with me with it.

            There is air again.

            I gasp and sit up. I gulp and shake out my hands. I smell burning and see that smoke is emitting from the keyboard. Instead of taking my hand and helping me up, Eric grabs my upper arm and pulls me out of the chair.

            He opens the door and drags me from the room, taking me down an few corridors before we stop.

            “You’re Divergent,” he whispers.

            I stare at him, fear pulsing through me like electricity. He knows. I’m in for it.

            I should act casual. I lean back, pressing my shoulders to the wall, and say, “What’s a Divergent?”

            “Don’t play coy with me,” he says. “I suspected it during stage one, and it increased my suspicions yesterday, but it’s obvious this time. Only an Divergent can manipulate an simulation like that.”

            “Are you going to kill me?” I ask, remembering Four’s warning yesterday morning and Eric’s conversation with Jeanine. That question shouldn’t be asked especially after our kiss yesterday.

            “No, but I did delete the footage,” he replies, looking as if I asked a preposterous question. He grabs my arm and pulls me towards him. “Act less aware the next time, unless you want the wrong person to find out, and you end up in the bottom of the chasm.”

            He lets go of me and I watch as he walks down the hallway. I feel my heartbeat in my throat. I manipulated the simulation; I broke the glass. I didn’t know that was an act of Divergence.

            How did he?

            Well, perhaps he’s not the only one, since Jeanine instructed him to personally oversee my stage two training, but if Eric suspected it during stage one, is he Divergent?

            I push myself away from the wall and start down the hallway. I need answers, no not from Eric. At least not yet. That’s for another question: about why he isn’t killing me if Jeanine sent him after me.

 

* * *

 

            I walk straight to the tattoo place where I last saw Tori.

            There aren’t many people out, because it’s midafter-noon and most of them are at work or at school. There are three people in the tattoo place: the other tattoo artist, who is drawing a lion on another man’s arm, and Tori, who is sorting through a stack of paper on the counter. She looks up when I walk in.

            “Hello, Tris,” she says. She glances at the other tattoo artist, who is too focused on what he’s doing to notice us. “Let’s go in the back.”

            I follow her behind the curtain that separates the two rooms. The next room contains a few chairs, spare tattoo needles, ink, pads of paper, and framed artwork. Tori draws the curtain shut and sits in one of the chairs. I sit next to her, tapping my feet to give myself something to do.

            “What’s going on?” she says. “How are the simulations going?”

            “Really well.” I nod a few times. “A little too well, I hear.”

            “Ah.”

            “Please help me understand,” I say quietly. “What does it mean to be…” I hesitate. I should not say the word “Divergent” here. “What the hell am I? What does it have to do with the simulations?”

            Tori’s demeanor changes. She leans back and crosses her arms. Her expression becomes guarded.

            “Among other things, you…you are someone who is aware, when they are in a simulation, that what they are experiencing is not real,” she says. “Someone who can then manipulate the simulation or even shut it down. And also…” She leans forward and looks into my eyes. “Someone who, because you are also Dauntless…tends to die.”

            A weight settles on my chest, like each sentence she speaks is piling there. Tension builds inside me until I can’t stand to hold it in anymore – I have to cry, or scream, or…

            I let out a harsh little laugh that dies almost as soon as it’s born and say, “So I’m going to die, then?”

            “Not necessarily,” she says. “The Dauntless leaders don’t know about you yet, well, with one outstanding exception. I wanted to speak with you as soon as Four told me, but I couldn’t get a hold of you. The same thing happened to my brother before they…found out what he was.”

            “Your brother?” I say, narrowing my eyes.

            “Yeah. My brother. He and I both transferred from Erudite, only his aptitude test was inconclusive. On the last day of simulations, they found his body in the chasm. Said it was a suicide. Only my brother was doing well in training, he was dating another initiate, he was _happy_.” She shakes her head. “You have a brother, right? Don’t you think you would know if he was suicidal?”

            I try to imagine Caleb killing himself. Even the thought sounds ridiculous to me. Even if Caleb was miserable, it would not be an option.

            Her sleeves are rolled up, so I can see a tattoo of a river on her right arm. Did she get it after her brother died? Was the river another fear she overcame?

            She lowers her voice. “In the second stage of training, Georgie got really good, really fast. He said the simulations weren’t even scary to him…they were like a game. So the instructors took a special interest in him. Piled into the room when he went under, instead of just letting the instructor report his results. Whispered about him all the time. The last day of simulations, one of the Dauntless leaders came in to see it himself. And the next day, Georgie was gone.”

            I could be good at the simulations, if I mastered whatever force helped me break the glass. I could be so good that all the instructors took notice. I could, but will I? Eric insisted that I act unaware.

            “Is that all it is?” I say. “Just changing the simulations?”

            “I doubt it,” she says, “but that’s all I know.”

            “How many people know about this?” I say, thinking of Eric and Jeanine. “About manipulating the simulations?”

            “Two kinds of people,” she says. “People who want you dead, like Eric. Or people who have experienced it themselves. Firsthand. Or secondhand, like me.”

            If Eric wants me dead, then why did he delete the footage? Why would he kiss me, even?

            I push the thought aside. I can’t let him distract me. At least right now.

            “I don’t understand,” I say slowly, “why the Dauntless leaders care that I can manipulate the simulation.”

            “If I had it figured out, I would have told you by now.” She presses her lips together. “The only thing I’ve come up with is that changing the simulation isn’t what they care about; it’s just a symptom of something else. Something they do care about.”

            Tori takes my hand and presses it between her palms.

            “Think about this,” she says. “These people taught you how to use a gun. They taught you how to fight. You think they’re above hurting you? Above killing you?”

She releases my hand and stands.

“I have to go or Bud will ask questions. Be careful, Tris. Don’t give Eric any implication that you are simulation aware.”

It’s already too late. I did, only that he isn’t killing me like people think.

 

* * *

 

Shortly before dinner, I go up to the third floor in the Pire. Either Eric is in his apartment or he’s already at the Pit. I still want to talk to him.

I remember Four’s warnings, that Eric had me under a microscope and that I shouldn’t do anything stupid. Jeanine specifically told Eric that she wanted him to administrate my fear simulations.

If Eric wants me dead, he wouldn’t have deleted the footage and warn me to act unaware. He would have saved the footage and handed me over to Jeanine.

When I turn the knob to see if he’s there or not, I hear Eric say, “The door is unlocked.”

I open the door and shuffle in. Upon entering, I smell the aroma of beef and stewed vegetables. Mother would make soup and other warm meals for the factionless during the winter months and if I guess correctly, the soup smells similar to this.

“Not having dinner in the dining hall?” I ask.

“People don’t eat their all the time and since my friends are working at this time, there’s no point in sitting around with those who hate your guts,” he says.

I sit down at the kitchen table, laying my head on top of my arms. It would be nice to just disappear and not have to watch my back every hour. If I had chosen Abnegation, I wouldn’t have to worry about these kinds of things.

I see an bowl with steam emitting from the soup placed in front of me and I lift my head up, picking up my spoon. Both of us eat in silence, though I keep glancing at him every now and then.

Tension fills me and at first, I’m not sure if I can even ask why –

            “Is there something you want to talk about?” he asks me, interrupting my thought process.

            I turn to face him. “Why didn’t you kill me when everyone thinks that you will?”

            At first, Eric looks as if I shouldn’t have asked that question, before he softens an little. “I’m just covertly avoiding the assignment Jeanine gave me after initiation. It’s not like I am doing this under my own free will.”

            “Did she blackmail you into it?” I ask, since that is the only thing I can come up with.

            “Something like that,” he answers. If he doesn’t want to say why, then I won’t ask him.

            “People think that you might kill me, that you have already keeping me under an microscope,” I tell him. “They are going to think I’m an idiot for standing even an few feet from you.”

            Eric chuckles before he pulls me close. His lips touch mine and I put my hands on his shoulders, my heart pounding in my chest.

            When our lips separate, he looks at me in the eye and asks, “Tris, are you stupid to believe that I could possibly lead you to your death?”

            If he defied Jeanine enough to delete the footage, everything should be okay. I should trust him.

            “No,” I answer.

            “Just don’t give them any indication you’re different,” he says. “Okay?”

            “Okay,” I say.

            “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have kissed you in the first place,” he says.

            I chuckle before I lean in to kiss him.


	12. Chapter Twelve

“Ha ha!” says Marlene in triumph. “I got you now, Uri!”

            “Why did you have to win this time, Marlene,” Uriah sighs as he resets the cards.

            “You were getting too cocky, that’s why,” says Lynn, rolling her eyes. “Okay, my turn.”

            We have been playing all variations of card games for two hours now. It was Uriah’s idea after he heard about Erudite’s latest attack on Abnegation: this time, questioning why only people who identify as selfless should be in charge of the government. I haven’t gotten Eric’s intake on it yet, though I shouldn’t be surprised if he agrees with that article.

            Still, I needed some cheering up after witnessing my family bleed to death via simulation today.

            Before Uriah and Lynn can play, a Dauntless member that looks like he can be Uriah’s brother approaches us. “Eric told me to tell you that initiate curfew is in fifteen minutes.”

            “Why couldn’t he tell us himself?” Lynn demands, straightening the deck of cards.

            “He has got his hands full with three of the Candor transfers,” Uriah’s brother answers. “Caught two of them trying to steal knives from the weapons room.”

            I’m not surprised if it was Peter and his lackeys. I would hate to think what they would use them for.

            “You really know how to ruin the fun, Zeke,” says Uriah.

            By observation, the dining hall is almost empty, with the cooks covering the food and turning off the lights at the food buffet. When I exit the dining hall, I meet with Christina.

            “I heard that Eric caught two people in the weapons room,” I say.

            “Yeah. It was Peter and Drew.” Christina shakes her head. “As Al put it, Peter said some bullshit about late night training. Peter pressured Al into having him stand outside in case anyone was out there, but that tipped Eric off.”

            “They didn’t steal anything, did they?” I ask, fearing what Peter and Drew would do with those knives. I don’t like the fact that Peter is now pressuring Al to do stuff. Al has turned himself into a doormat.

            “They probably search them though,” says Christina. “I think Peter knows that the progress report for stage two is coming in two days and he’s probably preparing in case someone ranks above him and that worries me. One of us is going to have to watch our backs.”

            Personally, I’m hoping that Peter ranks first for stage two. Not that I would want him to, because it would swell up his ego, but because he won’t have to poke another’s initiate’s eye out or do worse.

 

* * *

 

            Above me, a spotlight comes on, showcasing my parents and my brother. If Caleb chose Erudite, why is he still wearing Abnegation grey in my fears? Probably because those were the clothes I last saw him wearing.

            “Do it,” I hear someone say. A male voice I cannot place. The silhouette hands me a gun, while pointing another gun at me. No, this can’t be happening.

            Shaking, I hold up the gun to Caleb’s chest. If I had my way, I wouldn’t shoot him in simulation, but with the threat of discovery looming over me, I have to act unaware.

            As if by automatic response, I shoot Caleb in the heart.

 

* * *

 

            Once I’ve calmed down, once I’ve shown to act less aware in the simulation, I sit up right in the chair, tears streaming, fighting to keep down that scream that’s threatening to escape my lungs.

            Then, on impulse, I let it out.

            “Here, I brought this with me just in case something similar happened.” Eric hands me a bar of chocolate wrapped in silver plastic. Chocolate releases calming endorphins, and usually in Erudite I heard, chocolate is only given when someone is under stress. The Abnegation refrain from chocolate because they see it as self-indulgent and synonymous with fornication.

            I take the chocolate bar with shaking hands. “Thanks,” I say.

            On the way to his apartment, I slowly eat the chocolate bar piece by piece. It’s darker and tastes somewhat bitter. Must be dark chocolate.

            “Only when you get to the fear landscape, you will be able to manipulate the outcome,” he says once we’re in the privacy of his apartment.

            “Isn’t it against the rules to tell me things ahead of time?” I ask, before stuffing the last bit of chocolate in my mouth.

            “It’s not illegal if I tell you,” he says.

            “Regardless, I had an rough week.” I lean against the counter. “It wasn’t just the fear simulations, though.”

            “You might disagree, but I think that the recent one was fairly accurate,” says Eric. “Everything would be fair if all the five factions –”

            “It was only disguised as rationality to hide the fact that they want to overthrow the government,” I argue.

            “Asserting that all the five factions should have a say in the government isn’t calling for a coup. It’s only promoting equality,” he persists. “If we had Dauntless members among the council, the Abnegation wouldn’t have pulled the Dauntless from the factionless slums. They don’t just need help. They also need policing, because squalid environments lead to violence.”

            I want to argue with him, that it’s wrong, but then I come to the conclusion that Eric has an point. If the Dauntless were still stationed at the factionless sector, I wouldn’t have had that encounter with the factionless man.

            “It’s just that I don’t want to criticize my former faction yet,” I tell him.

            “You can still be critical and like being a former member of that faction.” Eric smiles an little.

            “Is that even possible?” I ask, before remembering Will’s criticism of his former faction.

            “In Erudite, there are two types of people: those who use their knowledge according to the Erudite manifesto and those that are pretentious that they allow their heads to swell,” Eric answers. “As much as enjoyed my upbringing, it was tight and contained my temper. The Erudite manifesto and writings didn’t say anything about sense of humor but most of the Erudite don’t believe in that and sarcasm.”

            While it’s easy to poke at the Erudite, it will be hard for me to find anything to criticize about my former faction. Wanting to lighten up the conversation, I approach one of his bookshelves. “What other books do you like?”

 

* * *

 

            The next day, after my last simulation where I’m faced with the fear of shooting my family again, I go to the dormitory in order to rest my eyes before the posting of the rankings for stage two. The only people in here are Will and Al fortunately, so I go over to my bed and lay down.

            The simulations should be nightmare inducing; they should tear a hole into me, as they have been doing to everyone else, like Drew, doesn’t sleep and Al, who screams every night. Me? I just bite my nails.

            I don’t know how much time has passed but I wake up to the door opening and I see Eric walking in the room with a chalkboard, piece of paper and chalk. The other initiates follow him to the end of the room and I follow.

            “Just to inform you, this is a progress report of your rankings, as the final cuts will be made after the end of stage three,” says Eric. “Stage two differed from stage one because it is emotional rather than physical. The ranks are determined by the average simulation time and how well you calmed down, meaning that if someone was ranked a an low rank after stage one could be given a higher ranking, and those that ranked high previously might find themselves with an low rank. Stage one was to determine your physical skills in combat. Stage two was facing your fears and calming down in the face of them. The final stage will be weighted more heavily, as it will focus on the number of fears you have and how to resolve them. Keep that in mind.”

            He turns around as I fill with apprehension. In fact, one can taste it in the room even.

            Eric lifts the board above his head and hangs it on the nail. When he steps aside, the room falls silent, and I instantly see what it is.

            My name is in the first slot.

            Heads turn in my direction. I follow the list down. Christina and Will are ranked seventh and ninth. Peter is second, but when I look at the time listed by his name, I realize that the margin between us is conspicuously wide.

            Peter’s average simulation time is eight minutes. Mine is two minutes, forty-five seconds.

            “Nice job, Tris,” Will says quietly.

            I nod, still staring at the board. As pleased as I should be, this is bad news. I remember the butter knife in Edward’s eye after he was ranked first. It could be me next.

            I search for Al’s name and find it in the last slot. When the crowd of initiates breaks up slowly, I see that Al looks as if he’s on the verge of tears. I didn’t think that he would fail concerning that this was just the emotional stage.

            Peter turns slowly, looking at me with a glare of pure hatred. He walks towards his bed, but at the last second, he whips around and shoves me against a wall, a hand on each of my shoulders.

            “I will not be outranked by a Stiff,” he hisses, his face so close to mine I can smell his stale breath.

            Before he can slam me into the wall, I knee him in the crotch. His hold loosens and I run past him.

            “What was that about?” demands Christina.

            “There was no need to antagonize her,” says Will.

            “If you weren’t idiots, you would see that she was cheating her way up the ranks in stage one,” says Peter. “If Eric intended to punish her, then why did she get better every fight? She’s going to edge you out of the rankings and out of Dauntless, and you’re going to get nothing, all because she cheated her way up to rank three in stage one and cheated up to number one for stage two. She’s been lying to you. So when you realize that she’s out to ruin us all, you let me know.”

            Peter storms out of the dormitory. Molly and Drew follow him, looks of disgust on their faces. Christina and Will both look at me.

            “Is he right?” Will asks quietly. “Did you lie about your hours with Eric?”

            I sigh. I can’t hide it now. “Alright. I did, but it wasn’t because I wanted to. Eric was persistent that I take lessons from him, so I can get better.”

            “You could have said ‘no’,” says Christina, looking at me without sympathy. “Besides, did he really force you to train under him, because something tells me –”

            “You called Peter a liar this whole time and now you’re taking _his_ word for it?” I demand, anger bubbling in me. “Yes, I lied. I lied about my hours with Eric, but I just didn’t want you to become jealous over something that I had no say in. What disturbs me is that just you took the word of _someone_ who stabbed Edward in the eye with the butter knife, and you yourself expressed concern what Peter might be up to when he and Drew broke into the weapons room before they were caught by Eric. You can’t have it both ways, Christina.”

            I don’t even wait for them to respond. I just turn my heel and storm out of the room, slamming the door shut.

 

* * *

 

            “Yeah, that was pure idiocy,” I hear Jocelyn say to Sean when I stand behind them in the food line for lunch. Its takes them a second for them to see me. “Why the long face, Tris?” she asks.

            “I got ranked first,” I answer.

            “I don’t know why it’s anything to be glum about.” Sean lifts a shoulder. “It’s better than being ranked in the bottom.”

            “Thing is, my friends aren’t too happy,” I say truthfully.

            “Fickle, are they?” asks Jocelyn, raising a pierced eyebrow. “Why is it that the former Erudite and Candor have complexes of having high ranks?”

            “Sucks to be them,” says Sean. “They are acting like sore losers when the transfer from Abnegation proves to be tougher than them.”

            They are probably trying to make me feel better, though they shouldn’t be insulting my friends. Though, Jocelyn is right: real friends don’t believe someone’s bullshit to justify their jealousy.

            I follow them to an half full table where Eric is already sitting. “Shouldn’t you be sitting with your friends?” he asks.

            “Her friends are being sore losers,” says Sean as we sit down.

            “Not them too,” Eric says in frustration, slamming down his fork. “I’ve been hounded by Peter and his stupid muscles after the rankings. They were stupid enough to believe that we make errors when it comes to the ranking and points system. If Peter and Molly whine one more time about not getting ranks that they don’t earn, they’re lucky that there are rules to protect initiates; otherwise I would wring their necks.”

            “That’s extreme, Eric,” Jocelyn comments. “I wouldn’t wring their necks.”

            “You haven’t been with these kids since stage one, Jocelyn,” says Eric. “It’s like they purposely tuned out the fact that each stage is weighted differently. At least we don’t have this problem with the Dauntless-born initiates.”

            “Yeah, the transfers come in with swollen heads.” Sean pokes my arm with his finger. “If we had more transfers from Abnegation and Amity, we wouldn’t have that problem.”

            “Are you kidding? That will be like teaching a bunch of Lower Levels school children,” Eric grumbles.

            I throw a roll at his shoulder, causing a few people around our radius to stare at us. Four, who’s sitting with Zeke and a Dauntless woman at the next table over, looks like he’s ready to spring into action in case something terrible happens.

            Eric smirks, crushes a muffin and throws it’s remnants at my hair. I giggle.

“Cheeky, aren’t you, Tris?” he says.

            Everyone begins what they were doing before, though Four looks baffled. “Did someone swap brains with you last night?” asks Zeke, arching a dark eyebrow.

            “Would I punch someone who just threw food at me?” Eric demands.

            “You just don’t have a sense of humor.”

            “I do,” says Eric. “You’re just blind to it.”

            Zeke just rolls his eyes before picking up his fork, and I pick an piece of crumbled muffin from my hair and put it in my mouth.

 

* * *

 

            Later, during dinner, Uriah invited me to come to the training room with him, Marlene, and Lynn, as Uriah was going to shoot an muffin from Marlene’s head.

            “She bet me I couldn’t aim well enough to hit a small object from one hundred feet,” Uriah explained. “I bet her she didn’t have the guts to stand there as I tried. It works out well, really.”

            We arrive at the training room where I learned how to shoot firearms. Uriah flips on a light switch. It looks the same as the last time I was there.

            “They keep them out?” I guess out loud.

            “Yeah, but they aren’t loaded.” Uriah pulls up his shirt. There is a gun stuck under the waistband of his pants. “Okay,” he says. “Go stand in front of a target.”

            Marlene walks away.

            “You’re not going to shoot her, are you?” I ask Uriah.

            “Well, it’s not an actual gun,” says Lynn quietly. “It’s got plastic pellets in it. It won’t give her any damage, except for a welt. What do you think we are, idiots?”

            Marlene stands in front of one of the targets and sets the muffin on her head. Uriah squints one eye as he aims the gun.

She gives Uriah a thumbs-up.

            “I take it your ranks were good,” I say to Lynn.

            She nods. “Uriah’s second. I’m first. Marlene’s fourth.”

            Uriah squeezes the trigger. The muffin falls off Marlene’s head. She didn’t even blink.

            “We both win!” she shouts.

            “You miss your old faction?” Lynn asks me.

            Marlene picks up the muffin from the ground and bites into it. Uriah shouts, “Gross!”

            “It was more quiet, but I guess I’ll get used to it,” I say.

            “Initiation’s supposed to wear us down to who we really are. That’s what Eric says, anyway,” Lynn says. She arches an eyebrow.

            “Four says it’s to prepare us.”

            “Well, they don’t agree on much.”

            I nod. I think about that. _Wear us down to who we really are_. I guess under situations of stress, people tend to show their true colors.

            The door to the training room opens. Zeke, Zeke’s female Dauntless companion, and Four walk in just as Uriah fires at another target. The plastic pellet bounces off the center of the target and rolls along the ground.

            “I thought I heard something in here,” says Four.

            “Turns out it’s my idiot brother,” says Zeke. “You’re not supposed to be in here after hours. Careful, or Four will tell Eric, and then you’ll be as good as scalped.”

            Uriah wrinkles his nose at his brother and puts the pellet gun away. Marlene crosses the room taking bites of her muffin, and Four steps away from the door to let us file out.

            “You wouldn’t tell Eric,” says Lynn, eyeing Four suspiciously.

            “No, I wouldn’t,” he says.

            I snort. The worse Eric could do would be a scolding at best.

            The others walk down the hallway, Zeke and Uriah shoving each other, Marlene splitting her muffin with Zeke’s girlfriend, Lynn marching in front. I start to follow them.

            “Wait a second,” Four says. I turn toward him, wondering what he could possibly want. He smiles a little, but the smile doesn’t spread to his eyes, which look tense and worried.

            “You belong here, you know that?” he says. “You belong with us. It’ll be over soon, so just hold on, okay?”

            Has he seen the rankings for stage two? Did he see the runtime of the simulations? I don’t understand his constant obligation to protect me.

            Still, I nod before turning around and following Uriah and Marlene.

           

* * *

 

            I get back to the dormitory before anyone else does, and when they start to trickle in, I get into bed and pretend to be asleep. After at least a half hour, I roll onto my back and open my eyes. The dormitory is dark now – everyone has gone to bed. _Probably exhausted from resenting me so much_ , I think with a wry smile. As if coming from the most hated faction wasn’t enough, now I’m showing them up, too.

            Bored, I get out of bed to get a drink of water. My bare feet make sticky sounds on the floor as I walk, my hand skimming the wall to keep my path straight. A bulb glows blue above the drinking fountain.

            I tug my hair over one shoulder and bend over. As soon as the water touches my lips, I hear voices at the end of the hallway. I creep closer to them, trusting the dark to keep me hidden.

            Before I could make out a single word, someone grabs me from behind.

            I start to scream, but a hand claps over my mouth. I thrash, but the arms holding me are too strong, and I bite down on one of the fingers.

            “Ow!” a rough voice cries.

            “Shut up and keep her mouth covered.” Peter.

            A strip of dark cloth covers my eyes, and a new pair of hands ties it at the back of my head. I struggle to breathe. Two hands are on my arms, dragging me forward, and another one on my back, shoving me in the same direction, and one on my mouth, keeping my screams in. Three people. I could only take on one person. Three is another story

            “Wonder what it sounds like when a Stiff begs for mercy,” Peter says with a malicious chuckle. “Hurry up.”

            I try to focus on the hand on my mouth. The palm is sweaty and soft. I clench my teeth and breathe through my nose. The soap smell is familiar. Lemongrass and sage. The same smell surrounds Al’s bunk. A weight drops into my stomach.

            I hear the crash of water against rocks. We are near the chasm – oh no, this isn’t good. This is worse then what Peter did to Edward after stage one.

            “Lift her up, c’mon.”

            I thrash, and their rough skin grates against mine, but I know it’s useless. I scream too, knowing that no one can hear me here.

            I will survive until tomorrow. I will.

            The hands push me around and up and slam my spine into what feels like the metal railing. My feet still touch the ground.

            A heavy hand gropes my chest. “Do you like it, Stiff? I bet you haven’t been touched by a guy.” One of the boys laughs, though I think I hear one of them running away.

            Bile rises in my throat and I swallow the bitter taste.

            “WHAT THE HELL!” I hear someone shout. “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!?”

            Peter’s hand leaves my chest and I fall with a thud to the ground, my ears ringing when my head hits the cement.

            Someone is knocked down to the Pit floor – Peter – and he screams. I hear thumps, punches, kicks, and groans.

            I remove the blindfold with a hand and dizzy from the impact, I watch as Eric beats up Peter, rage contorting his features. He’s saying – shouting – something, but I can’t hear it past the ringing in my ears.

            “Eric,” I croak.

            I close my eyes, and hands wrap around my shoulders. He pulls me from the ground and against his chest, gathering me into his arms, easing an arm under my knees. I press my face into his shoulder, and there is a sudden, hollow silence.           


	13. Chapter Thirteen

            I open my eyes to see a plywood dresser in front of the bed I’m lying on. Light streams into the bedroom and I hear a running faucet from the next room.

            The pain is a constant throb in my head. I shouldn’t move; it will make everything worse. I see the duvet lying under my body. I have a pretty good idea where I’m at.

            I hear the faucet turn off before I hear the light switch. Someone hurries down the apartment and I hear the freezer door slam open and shut. Eric comes in seconds later, holding an ice pack. His knuckles are red and split.

            “How’s your head?” he asks, sitting at the edge of the bed.

            “It throbs,” I answer, my throat dry. He gently puts the ice pack under my head.

            “Just be glad that it was a concussion and that you didn’t crack your head open,” says Eric.

            “Why were you there?” I ask.

            “I was conducting inter-faction work with Erudite when I thought I heard scuffling in the hallway near the dormitory,” he answers. “I left Jeanine with Max so I could investigate the situation.”

            Right now, I don’t want to ask what Jeanine wanted.

            “What happened with Peter?” I ask.

            “Four came down to the Pit just when I was about to take you to my apartment. He deposited Peter in the infirmary one hour ago,” says Eric. “Al and Drew got away. Peter told me that they were just trying to rough you up a little and scare you.” Eric snorts. “At least that’s what he was trying to tell me. If he did say that, he’s an idiot for trying to gloss over the fact that he had you bent over the railing of the chasm. I know attempted murder when I see it.”

            “Is he in bad shape?”

            “Nothing too life threatening,” Eric says. “His lackeys will now see how tough he is when he limps into the dining hall tomorrow morning.”

            It isn’t right to wish pain on other people just because they hurt me first. But white-hot triumph races through me at the thought of Peter in the infirmary, and I squeeze Eric’s hand.

            “Good,” I say. My voice sounds tight and fierce. Anger builds inside me, replacing my blood with bitter water and filling me, consuming me. I want to break something, or hit something, but I am afraid to move, so I start crying instead.

            Eric carefully strokes my hair. His fingers carefully skim the back of my head, where I feel a bump.

            “I’m going to meet with the other Dauntless leaders tomorrow morning,” says Eric. “This is a violation that they can’t ignore.”

            “No,” I say. “It will only make it worse.”

            “Dauntless policy states that the Dauntless leaders meet in an panel after an violation like this,” says Eric. “People won’t think anything particular.”

            Even if the Dauntless leaders meet together and decide Peter’s fate, it doesn’t guarantee that Peter will be thrown out of Dauntless.

            “I knew something might happen, after Peter and Drew broke into the weapons room an few days ago,” I say weakly.

            “Seeing that the Abnegation girl was stronger emotionally then he was scared him, and fear like that can only come from a lousy coward,” says Eric. “Having been ranked second, I know that it’s unpleasant to be considered second best, however, there are better ways of handling it then using violence.”

            “But Al. I didn’t think…” I say, remembering his hand on my mouth.

            “Since that wuss doesn’t want to hurt a fly, he lets others walk all over him,” Eric notes, “so it shouldn’t surprise me that he caves into threats and pressure.”

            I pause, trying to digest what he said, even though it’s difficult.

            “I don’t want to be particular, since attacks have varying effect on the individual,” says Eric. “Naturally, after an attack like this, the individual is shook up.”

            “You want me to act shaken up?” I ask.

            “Even the strongest people become rattled by things like this,” he replies. “That doesn’t mean that you are weak. Tomorrow morning, you are to go to breakfast and prove that they didn’t get to you, but don’t act as if it never happened. Acting _too_ vulnerable is going to make his accomplices think that they broke you.”

            Too vulnerable, and I don’t know if I can appear shook up.

            “What would you say if you found out that Peter groped my chest?” I ask.

            His eyes harden. “Sexual harassment is punishable by docking of points in your rank. If he doesn’t get expelled like I hope, I want you to make his life miserable.”

            “How?” I ask.

            Eric smirks. “Preferably karma. He’ll regret almost everything.”

            “I’m not sure if that can work,” I point out.

            “You won’t be alone. Trust me,” says Eric. “Unlike Peter, I actually have _genuine_ friends, not sycophantic lackeys that mirror their thoughts and personality like mine. When you look at it, Molly and Drew are completely useless when not around their leader.”

 

* * *

 

            That night, he holds me when I sleep. In Abnegation this would be frowned upon, since you have to be strictly married to sleep in the same bed. But after what recently happened, it’s comforting to have some comfort while sleeping.

            I can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat as I lay my head against his chest, inhaling his scent emitting from his clothes. That and the sound of him breathing are comforting. Like he is protecting me even.

            Things that nobody would place him feeling; it’s all shrouded by that Dauntless ruthlessness.

            When I wake up, he isn’t there, but I do see a bundle of clothes, like he quickly found some for me in the clothing place. My head throbs when I lift myself up. I brush my fingers over the bump, and pain prickles over my scalp. It could be worse. I could be floating in the river, and it wouldn’t have been until morning until I would have been discovered.

            I go in the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom and scan my reflection; nothing visible on my face, though I have to appear shook up.

            In fact, it’s not a lie that I’m actually shook up by this.

            I get changed into the clothes supplied and leave the apartment. When I enter the dining hall, my stomach ties in a knot and I lean against the wall for support. I could just go back where I was, but that would be cowardly.

            I pull myself together and steer my legs to where Christina and Will are sitting. Uriah, at the table next to Will and Christina’s, lifts his hand to wave at me. And then puts it down.

            I sit down next to Will, and he and Christina are looking at with wide eyes, like they want to ask me questions.

            “Are you alright?” asks Christina.

            Al isn’t there – he isn’t anywhere.

            “What happened?” asks Will.

            Uriah slides into the seat next to me, leaving his half-eaten muffin and half-finished glass of water on the other table.

            I look over his shoulder at the table behind ours. Drew and Molly are just pondering their breakfast, talking amongst themselves. Peter missing, which means he’s still in the infirmary. Vicious pleasure courses through me at the thought. I personally hope that he stays there until the end of initiation.

            “I nearly got tossed into the chasm last night,” I answer.

            “Peter tried tossing you over?” asks Christina.

            “How do you know about this?” I ask hollowly

            “Actually, we had a bit of a mouthful from Eric this morning,” says Will bashfully. “That we shouldn’t have been fickle about the ranks and that we should have saw it coming when Peter raged about you edging us out of the rankings. To be honest, I never really thought about it until he said something.”

            “Me either and I feel childish now.” Christina turns to me. “You were right; I shouldn’t have taken Peter’s word for it especially after what he did to Edward. I guess we were just justifying our jealousy, as Eric said.”

            “When someone like Eric lectures you on that, you know you’re in trouble,” says Uriah.

            “Who else was in on it?” asks Will. “I doubt that he would be able to do it single-handedly after you handed it to him during stage one.”

            “Drew, and....” I swallow. “And Al.”

            “Al?” asks Christina, dropping her fork in bewilderment. “You can’t be serious.”

            “It has to be desperation,” says Will. “He’s been acting…I don’t know. Like a different person. Ever since stage two started.”

            Then Peter shuffles into the dining hall. Calling him “bruised” would be an understatement. His face is swollen and purple. He has a split lip, a bandage around his nose, an black eye, and a cut running through his eyebrow. He’s limping, and not strutting as usual. He keeps his eyes down on the way to his table, not even lifting them to look at me.

            I inwardly smirk at the dumbfounded expressions on both Drew and Molly’s faces when Peter sits with them. I glance across the room at Eric. He smirks with satisfaction.

            “What happened to him?” asks Christina, dropping her toast.

            “It looks like he got ran over by a train,” says Will.

            “Or probably trying to mess with a Dauntless member,” I say weakly.

            “Who was it?” asks Christina.

            I shrug. “I never saw who. I was just glad that someone found me before they can do more damage.”

 

* * *

 

            After Four has introduced us to the fear landscape room and explains it to us, Christina, Will, and I decide to go to the first training room to throw knives. Right now, all five Dauntless leaders are meeting together to decide Peter’s fate. I don’t know what I’m hoping: that he gets expelled or that he stays in Dauntless with a tainted initiation record.

            We’ll probably not hear about it until after lunch and throwing knives might deplete any tension I have. Hopefully, though.

            “If Peter thinks he’s going to get ranked second again, he’s an idiot,” says Will as we step in the training room. “They have to take the Dauntless-born into consideration.”

            “I doubt if the Dauntless-born have high ranking complexes, since they know how the system works,” says Christina.

            “Depending how the meeting goes, if he doesn’t get expelled, his rank could be lowered,” I say.

            “He _should_ be expelled,” says Christina. “If he attacked you once, he’s bound to go after you again.”

            It’s true, since I’m not the one who landed him in the infirmary last night. If he doesn’t get expelled from Dauntless initiation, there is the chance that they might threaten him with expulsion if he attempts something again.

            The three of us pick up three knives each, like when we practiced knife throwing with the other initiates. The target is still standing up right so we don’t have to move it.

            Unlike the last time, I don’t need to practice with knife movements before throwing. The first knife I throw sticks the outermost circle.

            “I haven’t told you that you’re quite good at this,” says Christina.

            “You’re not just saying that because you feel bad for what you said yesterday,” I say.

            “Well, Eric told us not to get cocky and I think I got cocky when I was ranked fifth,” Christina admits.

            “Anyone would get cocky, though having a low rank is preferable then being cut,” I say. “Getting a high rank didn’t matter unless I ranked at least in the top ten.”

            “When it comes to job selections, you better choose leader-in-training before Peter does, or else he’ll make everything worse,” says Christina.

            “I highly doubt that Peter will be given that option after initiation after what happened last night,” Will points out.

            “Expulsion is what I prefer,” I say, throwing the second knife.

 

* * *

 

            When I enter the dining hall for lunch, I see Peter and his two lackeys huddled at the nearest table, their heads pulled together, like they are up to something. I wish Eric kicked him in the head or else I wouldn’t get the feeling that they are plotting against me.

            When I get to the food line, I see them stand up and walking towards my direction. I begin to think of ways to defend myself in case they try to harass me.

            “What’s up, guys?” I hear Sean say as he approaches them.

            Peter, Drew, and Molly glance nervously at each other before saying, “Nothing.”

            Jocelyn and another Dauntless girl sneak up behind them, both carrying cups – though Jocelyn is carrying two – and they dump the contents on the three of them; lemonade with ice by the looks of it.

            Molly shrieks as the beverage dumps on her, causing everyone in the room to look at the scene.

            “You bitch!” yells Peter, looking angry yet embarrassed.

            “Oh, we’re sorry,” says Jocelyn in a syrupy sweet voice.

            “Wait! You’re missing something”. Her female companion takes out a packet of ketchup, tears it open, and smears it on Peter’s face.

            Gradually, laughter is heard in the cafeteria before it spreads to where everyone is laughing. I myself laugh, leaning against the counter for support. The three of them run out of the room, wedging between Dauntless members.

            Jocelyn, her friend, and Sean hi-five each other, with smirks of triumph on their faces. I feel triumphant myself since they deserve that humiliation.

            When the doors open and Eric enters the room, the laughter comes to an halt though I hear faint chuckles. From an distance, I see that he looks quite angry; no, dangerous is the correct term. It could only mean one thing: Peter isn’t going to be expelled, and I know that Eric has been pushing for that.

            I hurry through the food line and sit at the usual table with Christina and Will, who are accompanied by Uriah, Marlene, and Uriah. “Who did Peter piss off this time to be humiliated like that?” asks Uriah.

            “Jocelyn and her friend dumped ice cold lemonade on Peter, Drew, and Molly,” I say, laughter coming from me at the thought of it. “Sean distracted them before they did it.”

            “Jocelyn and Sean don’t do that type of stuff unless they feel that one of their friends was being ganged up on,” says Lynn. “Jocelyn says that humiliation distracts them from carrying out what they were going to do.”

            “They are not mean, but they are not nice either,” says Uriah. “Just don’t trample on anyone they like.”

            To me, it seems like Eric told them that he was planning to use karma on Peter and they jumped to it. I look around the cafeteria and see that Al is sitting by himself, pondering his food.

            Relief hits me.

            “Anything on Peter’s fate?” Christina asks.

            “They didn’t disclose anything, but one thing we do know is that they are not going to expel Peter,” says Marlene.

Something drops in me like a weight. Peter is going to stay.

“I heard that Eric and Veronica both pushed for Peter’s expulsion,” says Lynn, “but Max said that since it was only a first strike, they should give him another chance, and that they’ll only do something major if it was a second attack.”

I smack my hand against the table. “But Peter stabbed Edward! So that makes it a _second_ offense!”

“It was only speculated that the little coward did it.” Uriah shakes his head. “So, they see last night’s evidence as his first offense. So, Jackie and Ross both backed Max up, making it three to two.”

“They probably made a compromise, to placate Eric,” says Lynn. “He’s probably still pissed off.”

Even if it affected Peter’s record, expulsion would have been preferable but vicious pleasure runs through me that the Dauntless will see him as someone who attempted to murder a fellow initiate and nothing else.

 

* * *

 

I go up to Eric’s apartment, since it’s my sanctuary to get away from everything. I’m not in the right mindset to read so I just go in his bedroom. I take off my shoes and sit at the head of the bed, looking out the window.

All I see is dilapidated city scape that’s above the compound but if I go on the roof of the building, I might be able to see a view of the city inside the fence and the Amity compound that’s outside the fence.

After a while, I lie on my back, letting the afternoon sun bathe me before I close my eyes. I don’t know how long it’s been but I hear the door open and I feel the bed dip next to me. I open my eyes to see Eric.

“Tired?” he asks.

“No,” I answer, shifting my body before sitting up. “I just wanted to get away.”

“Trust me, I wanted him expelled, but according to Max, we can’t do anything since it’s considered his first offense.” Eric snorts. “What we came up was considered nothing.”

“What did they decide?” I ask.

“They docked his points from his rank, and they’ll limit his job opportunities, with leader-in-training not being an option for him,” Eric replies. “Max did say that if Peter attacked you again, the result will be expulsion, which I told Peter when I talked with him and his accomplices after lunch. I talked to Al first, because I knew that Al would tell the truth.”

I tense up. “What did Al say?”

“As I suspected, Peter pressured him and even threatened him,” says Eric. “Al knew that he would still fail initiation regardless if you were first or not, and he didn’t want to take part of it and Peter threatened to stab his eye out if he told anyone. Drew told me what was planned, that Peter was planning to eliminate you so he could secure first and that Peter enlisted Al because Molly was not a suitable candidate for the scheme. Peter tried lying his way out of it, by trying to deflect the blame from him to you, that you accosted him. That was the same bull that he said when I interrogated him about Edward. He only confessed to trying to get rid of you after telling him what Drew and Al told me.”

I should try to remind Al that he shouldn’t have allowed Peter to pressure and threaten him like that, but bitterness fills me. To stoop to the demands of a bully because you’re afraid is an act of cowardice.

And I won’t forgive him since he didn’t make an effort to help me.

“Peter probably didn’t feel remorse,” I say.

“If I were him, I would watch myself every night, knowing that there is the definite possibility that the victim will retaliate,” says Eric.

“I might have to do the same too,” I say. The idea of sleeping in the same room as Peter nauseates me.

He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear before pulling me closer to him. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise,” he says, placing a kiss on my head.

If Eric only shows this side of him to me, that tender side of him, no one will believe me if I talk about the positive qualities of his character.

 

* * *

 

At the dining hall that night, Al approaches me. Al’s eyes have shadows beneath them, and his face is swollen from crying. Pain stabs my stomach when I see him. I can’t move. The scent of lemongrass and sage, once pleasant, turns sour in my nose.

“Tris, can I talk to you for a second?” he asks, his voice shaking. “I just wanted to say that I was sorry. I don’t know what was wrong with me.”

I take a step closer to him, but I keep my distance. “Please, can you forgive me?” he pleads.”

Somewhere inside me is a merciful, forgiving person. Somewhere there is a girl who tries to understand what people are going through, who accepts that people do evil things and that desperation leads them to darker places than they ever imagined. I swear she exists, and she hurts for the repentant boy I see in front of me. The forgiving person would tell him that he shouldn’t let others pressure and bully him.

But if I saw her, I wouldn’t recognize her.

“If you ever come close to me again, I will kill you,” I threaten. My body feels rigid and cold, and I am not angry, I am not hurt, I am nothing.

“Tris…” he begins.

“You need to stay away from me!” I say. “You are a coward.”


	14. Chapter Sixteen

Something has happened last night. They found a body at the bottom of the chasm. Someone jumped. It was Al.

I was awoken by Christina during the night and we watched as they lifted the body from the ravine. I couldn’t stay when they put him in the body bag. This happens every year, I heard. 

I couldn’t stay because I couldn’t handle it, as I knew why he jumped. He was guilty and depressed. Guilty for trying to kill me, his friend. The very thought angers me.

 Despite the smell of breakfast beckoning everyone, people begin to crowd around the railing of the chasm, where a box was placed just an hour ago. Tori gave me and some of the initiates peppermint tea an hour earlier. According to her, the Dauntless address a death as soon as it happens, whereas in Abnegation we wait until the death sinks in before we acknowledge it.

The air smells potently of alcohol. The woman in front of me lurches to the right, losing her balance, and then erupts into giggles as she falls against the man next to her. I find Uriah, Will, and Christina standing among the other initiates. Christina’s eyes are swollen. Uriah is holding a silver flask. He offers it to me. I hesitate at first, because alcohol is considered self-indulgent and to drink it during a funeral is considered disrespectful.

But I’m no longer Abnegation. I take the flask with shaking hands and pop it open. I sip the contents. The alcohol burns my throat as it travels my mouth, but it’s strangely satisfying. I shake my head as I close the cap before giving the flask back to Uriah.

I thought I hear Molly snort but I don’t pay any attention. Eric is climbing onto the box next to the railing. I face him, crossing my arms to keep myself steady. I wonder what he’ll say.

In Abnegation no one has committed suicide in recent memory, but the faction’s stance on it is clear: Suicide, to them, is an act of selfishness. Someone who is truly selfless does not think of himself often enough to desire death. No one would say that aloud, if it happened, but everyone would think it.

“Quiet down, everyone!” shouts Eric. Someone hits what sounds like a gong, and the shouts gradually stop, though the mutters don’t. Eric says, “Thank you. As you know, we’re here because Albert, an initiate, jumped into the chasm last night.”

The mutters stop too, leaving just the rush of water in the chasm.

“We do not know why,” says Eric, “and it would be easy to mourn the loss of him tonight. But we did not choose a life of ease when we became Dauntless. And the truth of it is…” Eric smiles, like he’s trying to alleviate the heaviness in the room. “The truth is, Albert is now exploring an unknown, uncertain place. He leaped into vicious waters to get there. Who among us is brave enough to venture into that darkness without knowing what lies beyond it? Albert was not yet one of our members, but we can be assured that he was one of our _bravest_!”

Disgust fills me. Al tried to kill me, he committed suicide because he was depressed and here is Eric, calling him brave. I never thought Eric was a saint but I didn’t think he would stoop to this level.

A cry rises from the center of the crowd, and a whoop. The Dauntless cheer at varying pitches, high and low, bright and deep. Their roar mimics the roar of the water. Christina takes the flask from Uriah and drinks. Will slides his arm around her shoulders and pulls her to his side. Voices fill my ears.

“We will celebrate him now, and remember him always!” yells Eric. Someone hands him a dark bottle, and he lifts it. “To Albert the Courageous!”

“To Albert!” shouts the crowd. Arms lift all around me, and the Dauntless chant his name. “Albert! Al-bert! Al-bert!” They chant until his name becomes undecipherable.

I turn away from the railing. I cannot stand this any longer.

 

* * *

 

I watch as the knife hits the second circle of the target. I came here so that I can get away from anything, so I wouldn’t have to think about Eric’s recent speech, though throwing knives doesn’t seem to help like I thought it would.

I shake my head, when I think about what he said. Courageous? Courageous would have been admitting weakness and leaving Dauntless, no matter what shame accompanied it. Pride is what killed Al, and it is the flaw in every Dauntless heart. It is in mine.

“Tris?” I hear Eric ask.

A jolt goes through me, and I turn around, dropping the knife. Eric stands behind me.

“Care to explain _that_ back there?” I demand.

“Tris –” he begins.

“Al throws himself off a ledge and youcall it _brave_?” I yell, the blood rushing to my face. I taste bile. “He wasn’t brave! He was depressed and a coward and he almost killed me! Is that the kind of thing we respect here?”

“What was I supposed to do, Tris?” he demands. “What was I supposed to say? That the boy was a lousy coward who allowed people to walk all over him? He’s dead. It’s not like he can hear.”

I take deep breaths, trying to calm down. “Did you mean any of it, though?”

“No, it’s standard protocol to call someone brave no matter how they die,” says Eric, softer now. “To call the deceased a coward is an disgrace to that person’s memory. The deceased deserve respect.”

The Abnegation say something about not speaking ill of the dead, and right now I feel sick with myself. I wonder if all the factions think the same way.

“What does Erudite say about suicide?” I ask.

“Nothing specific, and they mourn the deceased with respect, though they don’t get overly drunk like here,” says Eric.

“My old faction thinks it’s selfish,” I say.

“It may seem that way, but you have to know what was going through the individual’s, mind,” he says. “Erudite did a study on suicide after talking with those who thought of suicide but kept getting psychological therapy. One group was stated that they felt no one would care if they committed suicide. That everything would go on as before for the ones they love after they kill themselves.”

Is that what Al thought? That no one would care if he offed himself? Guilt fills me at this. I should have forgiven him. Or I shouldn’t at least threaten him. I should have just told him to leave me alone.

“If I had forgiven him,” I say, tears streaming from my eyes, “do you think he would be alive now?”

“Even if you did, he probably wouldn’t be able to live himself after what happened,” says Eric. “It was incredibly out of character of him.”

It was. Al, who didn’t want to knock anyone out cold; Al, who stood up for me even. My friend.

“When does initiation end?” I ask. “It feels like everything has gone bad to worse.”

“Well, since this was the _third_ traumatic incident, the leaders decided to move up the initiation ceremony in two days’ time,” says Eric. “We can’t risk most of the initiates becoming liquidated if we wait another week.”

Relief fills me; because I didn’t know how I was going to survive for another week after all that has happened.

 

* * *

 

When I enter the dormitory before lunch, I see that another chalkboard is hanging against the wall next to the other one, where Al’s name has been crossed out, making Drew the last one on the list: The new chalkboard reads:

**_Due to recent events combined with the butter knife incident, your final examination has been moved up to two days’ time. Tomorrow, you will take an tour in an instructor’s fear landscape. Spend those hours wisely – the Dauntless leadership._ **

“WHAT!” I hear Molly screech. She looks terrified. “They can’t just expect us to think about how to resolve our fears in just today and tomorrow!”

“If you want to pass initiation, then just don’t worry about it,” Christina spits out. “Do you realize that you’re jinxing your chances of passing initiation with these outbursts, right?”

“I’m just speaking my mind.” Molly rolls her eyes. “I’ve been raised Candor like you, so I am being honest.”

“Honest people don’t tell lies about people they don’t know to the Erudite, Molly,” I point out.

“Stiffs don’t take lessons from authority and cheat their way up,” says Molly . I notice that Peter is backing away from the door before leaving the dormitory all together. It will probably be good for his health, since he was beaten up by Eric two nights ago.

That just comes to mind.

“What did Eric say on the first night to us?” I touch my chin, like I’m trying to think even though I know. “Oh. _If you’re really one of us, it won’t matter to you that you might fail. And if it does, you’re an coward_. Since it does matter to you that you won’t make it to the top ten and that you enjoyed humiliating me to make yourself strong, you’re a coward.”

Molly stands back, like I punched her in the gut. She looks dumbfounded, like she doesn’t know what to do.

“Have you ever read the Dauntless manifesto, Molly?” asks Will, who puts his hand on my shoulder. “I doubt it, though.”

Molly just walks out of the room. I should be wary, but she didn’t threaten me like last time.

 

* * *

 

While everyone else is filing into the dining hall for lunch, I stay at the Pit. I approach the chasm, hearing the water roar beneath. Taking a deep breath, I step on one of the barrier’s crossbars, pressing my hips to the railing to keep my balance. This is where Al stood. I look down into the chasm, at the black water, at the jagged rocks. Water hits the wall and sprays up, misting my face. Was he afraid when he stood here? Or was he so determined to jump that it was easy?

I don’t want to think about it.

“Tris?” someone asks. It’s Four. Or Tobias I should call him, even though I’ve known him as Four ever since he helped me from the net.

I step down on the concrete floor on the Pit and distance myself from the barrier. “I’m just thinking.”

“I saw you leave after Eric’s speech,” he notes. “I’m sure you felt uncomfortable.”

“Even if I did forgive him, he still wouldn’t live himself,” I say. I don’t tell him that it was Eric that told me that. “I still don’t want to think about it.”

“The Dauntless tend to remember the dead only if someone was a member for a long time,” says Four. “They tend to forget about the transfer initiate’s death after a week.”

So, they’ll forget Al in a week. My last memory of him was his devastated reaction after my rejection of his plea for forgiveness.

“Have you known anyone that has died here?” I ask.

Four hesitates, like he’s not sure how to answer and he gulps. “During my initiation, we had this instructor named Amar. He helped me get integrated into the faction during my initiation.”

“What happened to him?” I ask.

“Three weeks before last years’ initiation, they found him lying near the tracks by the Pire,” says Four. “Someone claimed to have seen him jump.”

Judging the apprehension in his tone, I could tell that he doesn’t buy it. Like he believed that something more sinister happened.

“What do you think _really_ happened?” I ask.

Four opens his mouth –

“Trying to poison her against me, Four?” I hear Eric demand from behind me. He stands an few feet away from me, but he glowers at Four. “You can’t achieve anything by reiterating an foolish, false accusation

“Telling her what kind of individual you actually are isn’t foolish,” says Four through gritted teeth. “Neither is that accusation false.”

“Leave her out of this,” snarls Eric.

“I asked him if he knew someone that died,” I defend, hoping that Eric will lay off of him.

Eric considers me for an moment before glaring at Four. They stare at each other for a second before Eric walks past me and leans towards him. “If you feed her that bullshit about me having to do with Amar’s death, _Eaton_ , you won’t like what happens to you.”

My stomach writhes at the threat, though this shouldn’t surprise me. I don’t want to get in the middle in their rivalry.

Four – or should I say Tobias – gives Eric an defiant glare as he steps back away from him, smirking in triumph. Eric takes my arm and leads me down the direction to the dining hall.

“What was that about?” I ask.

“If I explain it to you now, we would be around prying ears,” Eric replies.

“I wasn’t deaf when you said that to Four,” I point out.

“I knew you were, however, it wouldn’t be logical to tell you in a public place,” he explains.

“Your Erudite is showing,” I point out.

“Shut up,” he says, though he says it with an amused smirk on his face.

I end up elbowing him in the ribs as I chuckle.

Upon entering the dining hall, we both separate and I part to the table where Christina and Will are sitting, both of them looking at me strangely.

“What?” I demand.

“Just be glad that the wrong person didn’t see you walk in the dining hall with Eric, or else Peter would make something up just to get you into trouble,” says Christina.

 

* * *

 

No one is in the tattoo parlor when I arrive there after lunch except Tori. She looks up when she sees me enter.

“Is there something you want, Tris?” she asks.

I touch my left shoulder. “Is it treason if I get an Abnegation tattoo?”

“If it’s your faction of origin, they won’t bat an eyelash,” she says. “Don’t ask for a tattoo of the other faction seals, they’ll ask questions.”

I knew it wouldn’t be illegal, but I just don’t want everyone to see me get one. Especially all that has happened recently.

I take off my jacket and pull my hair to my right shoulder as she gets the needle ready. At the end of the day, I’ll have tattoos of both my faction of origin and my faction of choice, one on each shoulder.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

            The next morning, after breakfast, we go up to the Pire and we stand around Lauren, the instructor of the Dauntless-born initiates, who has her hands on her hips.

            “Two years ago,” she says, “I was afraid of spiders, suffocation, walls that inch slowly inward and trap you between them, getting thrown out of Dauntless, uncontrollable bleeding, getting run over by a train, my father’s death, public humiliation, and kidnapping by men without faces.”

“Most of you will have anywhere from ten to fifteen fears in your fear landscapes. That is the average number,” she says.

“What’s the lowest number someone has gotten?” asks Lynn.

“In recent years,” says Lauren, “four.”

Four fears. If only I’ll be that lucky to have not have too many fears.

“You will not find out your number today,” says Lauren. “The simulation is set to my fear landscape program, so you will experience my fears instead of _your_ own. For the purposes of this exercise, though, each of you will only face one of _my_ fears, to get a sense for how the simulation works.”

Lauren points to us at random and assigns us each a fear. When she gets to me, she hesitates for a second before assigning me suffocation.

Because I’m not hooked up to the computer as I wait, I can’t watch the simulation, only the person’s reaction to it. I clench my fists as Will brushes off spiders I can’t see and Uriah presses his hands against walls that are invisible to me, and I smirk as Peter turns bright red during whatever he experiences in “public humiliation.” Hopefully Peter has that fear especially after that incident in the cafeteria that sent everyone laughing.

Then it’s my turn. Because I’ve been injected with needles for stage two, I’m not apprehensive as Lauren inserts the needle into my neck.

The scenery changes and I find myself in a steel vault. I don’t know when it starts, but it feels as if the air gets thin with each breath I take. I kneel on my hands and knees, trying to breathe properly.

 _Keep breathing, keep breathing_ , I tell myself.

I remember cracking the glass and I could manipulate this obstacle by pushing open the vault door like it wasn’t locked but that would mean suicide. So, I just allow the thinning air to asphyxiate me until I can’t breathe and I pass out on the floor.

The lights come on and I stand up, feeling woozy from the lack of breath in the simulation.

“Good job, Tris,” says Tobias as I walk out of the fear landscape room. I nod as I sit against the wall and watch as Molly undergoes the fear of being thrown out of Dauntless. After which, we’re dismissed, with Tobias telling us that we “should use the rest of the day to think about how you’re going to resolve our fears.”

 

* * *

 

Christina and Will have paired off after lunch, and I can’t find Uriah, Marlene, and Lynn, so I decide to go to the second training room to throw a few punches.

It still smells of dust and sweat like the last time I was here. The last time I was here, I beat Peter in my last fight. If only I had bashed my head in with my foot.

In Abnegation, we are taught that hate only leads men to darker places, that it will only blind us. Like the Amity, we should forgive of those who wronged us. But how can one forgive after another almost murdered them?

I approach one of the punching bags. First I begin punching it with my fists. It starts to sway from the impact of my punches.

To think that this all began with just one punching bag; and to think that I hated his guts when I first saw him. I would have still hated his guts if he didn’t decide to give me extra training. When you spend time with someone, you form some kind of connection.

When I’m halfway through my practice with the punching bag, I hear the door open. I turn around to see Tobias, who’s surprised to see me here.

“Are you supposed to be with your friends?” he asks.

“Um…they paired off,” I answer.

“You don’t have to be alone here, you know that?” he asks, taking a few steps closer.

“You say that like I spend all my time here,” I say dryly. “I go to other places. Not just here.”

He nods, though it’s like what he was thinking what he’s trying to say. I turn to punch the punching bag again.

“Tris, remember the knives?” he asks me.

I drop my hands and turn towards him. Still, even though Tobias acts like that never happened, I remember it with a sting. “I remembered that you taunted me while throwing them, hoping that I would give up.”

“Taunting you? I wasn’t taunting you,” he says, shaking his head. “I was reminding you that if you failed, someone else would have to take your place.”

I cup the back of my neck with my hand and think back to the knife incident. Every time he spoke, it was to remind me that if I gave up, Al would have to take my place in front of the target.

“Why?” I say.

“Because you’re from Abnegation,” he says, “and it’s when you’re acting selflessly that you are at your bravest.”

I understand now, though that doesn’t abate the feeling of being humiliated.

“Not everyone is a mind reader, Four,” I say, putting my hands on my hips.

“If you know who I really am, you don’t have to call me that,” he says.

“Assuming that I was informed about your identity?” I ask.

“Just don’t call me by my real name in front of anybody else,” he says, smiling.

 

* * *

 

I go back into the dormitory before dinner to retrieve my book when I run into Christina, who looks ecstatic. “Finally,” she says. “I have something to tell you.”

She looks over my head at the door and then stands on her tiptoes to see all the bunks –checking if they’re empty, probably. Then she sets her hands on my shoulders.

“Can you be a girl for a few seconds?”

“I’m always a girl.” I frown.

“You know what I mean. Like a silly, annoying girl.”

I twirl my hair around my finger. “Okay.”

She gives me an wide grin. “Will kissed me.”

“What?” I demand. “When? How? What happened?”

“You can be a girl!” She straightens, taking her hands from my shoulders. “We ate lunch and then we walked around near the train tracks. We were just talking about…I don’t even remember what we were talking about. And then he just stopped, and leaned in, and…kissed me.”

“Did you know that he liked you?” I say. “I mean, you know. Like that.”

“No!” She laughs. “The best part was, that was it. We just kept walking and talking like nothing happened. Well, until I kissed him. ”

“How long have you known you liked him?”

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t. But then little things…how he put his arm around me at the funeral, how he opens doors for me like I’m a girl instead of someone who could beat the crap out of him.”

I laugh. Suddenly I want to tell her about Eric and everything that has happened between us. However, given the implication that he’s an Dauntless leader and I’m just an initiate, I don’t want her to think that my rank has anything to do with my relationship with him. Even though she and Will saw us enter the dining hall together yesterday.

So I just say, “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I’m happy too. And I thought it would be a while before I could feel that way…you know.”

She sits down on the edge of my bed and looks around the dormitory. Some of the initiates have already packed their things. Soon we’ll move into apartments on the other side of the compound. Those with government jobs will move to the Pire. I won’t have to worry about Peter attacking me in my sleep. I won’t have to look at Al’s empty bed.

“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” she says. “It’s like we just got here.”

 

* * *

 

Since sitting with Christina and Will is going to be awkward, I decide to sit with Uriah, Lynn, and Marlene, who sit with some members of Dauntless. Lynn introduced me to her sister Shauna, who I place correctly as Zeke’s girlfriend.

“Oh, I know who you are,” she says. “You’re the first jumper.”

“I’ve been told that a couple times,” I say sheepishly.

“Perhaps we could introduce you to a game of Dare sometime after the initiation ceremony,” she says.

“What’s Dare?” I ask, and I see Tobias scratching his ribcage from my peripheral vision.

“A Dauntless game,” says Zeke, his arm around Shauna’s shoulder. “What it is, someone hands you a flask and determines what your dare is and the flask holder determines the dare.”

            The thought of performing dares that the others want you to perform is frightening, yet it seems exciting at best.

            “And at the end of the game, everyone is drunk,” I hear Eric retort. He’s sitting at the next table over with Jocelyn and Sean.

            “Of course, we can’t have you be in a hangover the morning before that fancy job of yours,” says Zeke.

            “It depends how much you drink and how strong the alcohol is.” Eric lifts a shoulder. “Anyway, if you plan on tagging _her_ along, I’m coming too.”

            “I would hate to imagine what dares you suggest,” says Tobias through gritted teeth. “It won’t be a good idea if you joined.”

            “It’s not like I’m going to make people jump off one hundred story buildings,” Eric retorts, “though I might challenge you to zip line from the Hancock building.”

            “I don’t find that worthwhile,” says Tobias, like he’s trying to sound casual.

“Oh, come on, Four,” says Jocelyn. “It doesn’t hurt to engage in mindless fun. Everyone needs a rush of adrenaline every once in a while.”

“It just lost its appeal to me,” says Tobias.

“Sure it has,” says Shauna, before turning to Lynn. “Tomorrow is that final examination.”

“Don’t remind me,” says Lynn dryly. “We would have had the whole week to go over our fears if nothing was happening with the transfers.”

“It’s not our fault that we have an initiate who has a superiority complex,” I say.

“Hopefully we edge him out of the rankings,” says Uriah. “He’ll no longer be strutting afterwards.”

“Or I could accidentally trip him and make it look like he jumped into the chasm,” says Zeke, making a downwards motion with his hand before making an noise that sounds like someone fell into the water.

“If only it were possible, Zeke,” says Shauna hopefully.

After dinner, I separate from the pack of initiates and follow Eric up to the Pire. “How many fears did you have?” I ask him.

“Twelve,” he answers, as he presses the elevator button to go up the third floor. “That’s between the average ten to fifteen.”

“Have initiates gone through your fear landscape before?” I ask.

“I have an reputation to uphold, do you think that I would let them?” he says as the elevator door opens to the third floor. I guess that some of his fears don’t line up with his reputation as the ruthless Dauntless leader.

“Well, I wouldn’t want anyone to go through my fears,” I say, thinking about what is to happen tomorrow. “What if there is something in my fear landscape that I don’t want you to see, especially with the other leaders watching as well?”

Eric looks around the hallway before pinning me against the door to his apartment, his pelvis against mine. My heart hammers against my chest and the heat reaches my face. “There’s nothing for me to worry about, and neither should you.”

He crushes his lips against mine and I wrap my arms around his neck, though we shouldn’t continue on like this in an hallway where anyone could see us. When our lips part, our lips are ragged, though my fingers are touching the collar of his vest.

            “You should get to bed, since the fear landscape is bound to exhaust you,” he says, his eyes still looking at my lips.

           

* * *

 

            I have attended Abnegation’s initiation ceremony every year except this one. It is a quiet affair. The initiates, who spend thirty days performing community service before they can become full members, sit side by side on a bench. One of the older members reads the Abnegation manifesto, which is a short paragraph about forgetting the self and the dangers of self-involvement. Then all the older members wash the initiates’ feet. Then they all share a meal, each person serving food to the person on his left.

            The Dauntless don’t do that.

            Initiation day plunges the Dauntless compound into insanity and chaos. There are people everywhere, and most of them are inebriated by noon. I fight my way through them so I can have lunch in Eric’s apartment so I can escape the insanity and eat in peace.

            I move around his kitchen, trying to find anything that can hold me over until dinner. I warm up some left over food in the microwave and I put an slice of bread next to the food.

            When I sit at the table, I stare at my plate of food. I just grabbed what looked good to me at the time, and now that I take a closer look, I realize that I chose a plain chicken breast, a scoop of peas. Add that with the slice of bread, and it’s an Abnegation meal.

            I sigh. Abnegation is what I am. It is what I am when I’m not thinking about what I’m doing, even though I never strictly saw myself as Abnegation as I didn’t consider myself selfless. Maybe there is both a selfish and a selfless side to all of us.

            I eat like a robot, rotating from chicken to peas to bread and back again. In two hours, the initiates will go to the fear landscape room, though I plan on getting there around the time the Dauntless-born start their final examination, since the Dauntless are starting to assemble in the lobby of the Pire.

            I wash the plate thoroughly and set it in the rack to dry before exiting the apartment. In the lobby of the Pire, I see that they have set up some large screens on the wall to my left. The screen on the left shows a black-clothed girl in the fear landscape room – the purple-haired girl who was also on Eric’s capture the flag team. I watch her move, her eyes wide, but I can’t tell what obstacle she’s facing. I should be relieved that people will only see my reaction to my fears, but only the Dauntless leaders will see it, which makes me nervous to think about it.

            I tear my eyes from the screen and continue walking. Tobias stands just inside a door on the left side of the room that I barely noticed the last time I was here. It is next to the fear landscape room. I walk past him.

            The room is large and contains another screen, similar to the one outside. A line of people sit in chairs in front of it. Eric is one of them, and so are Veronica and Max. The others are also older. Judging by the wires connected to their heads, and their blank eyes, they are observing the simulation.

            Behind them are two rows of chairs, and there are only eight Dauntless-born left, and I sit in the second row next to Marlene.

            “Hey, Tris!” Uriah calls out from the first row, looking back at me. “You can sit on my lap, if you want.”

            “Tempting,” I call back, grinning. “It’s fine. I like to stand.”

            Even though Eric is currently observing the simulation, I don’t want to see me on someone else’s lap afterwards.

            The lights lift in the fear landscape room, and the Dauntless girl stands still, like she’s gone through something terrifying. Max, Eric, Veronica, and the other two Dauntless leaders shake off the simulation daze and walk out. A few seconds later I see them on the screen, congratulating her for finishing.

            I watch as Dauntless-born initiates wield invisible guns or react to their surroundings, either ending with a normal heart rate or being forced out because they reacted without calming down or resolving their fears.

            When they get to Marlene, I’m dimly aware that my fellow transfers enter the room and Christina sits down next to me.

            Once Lynn has finished, Tobias says, “Transfers, the order in which you go through the final test was taken from your rankings as they now stand. So Drew will go first, and Tris will go last.”

            That means five people will go before I do.

            I watch as Eric sticks Drew with the needle and sends him into the fear landscape room. By the time it’s my turn, I will know how well the others did, and how well I will have to do to beat them.

            The fear landscapes are not interesting to watch from the outside. I can see that Drew is moving, but I don’t know what he is reacting to. After a few minutes, I close my eyes instead of watching and try to think of nothing. Speculating about which fears I will have to face, and how many there will be, is useless at this point. I just have to remember that I have the power to manipulate the simulations, and that I have practiced it before.

            Molly goes next. It takes her half as long as it takes Drew, but even Molly has trouble. She spends too much time breathing heavily, trying to control her panic. At one point she even screams at the top of her lungs.

            Christina is next. Then Will. Then Peter. I don’t watch them. I know only how much time it takes them: twelve minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes. And then my name.

            “Tris.”

            I open my eyes, stand up, and walk to the front of the observation room, where Eric stands with a syringe full of orange liquid.

            “Ready?” he asks.

            I nod and I barely feel the needle as it plunges into my neck, watching his face as he presses the plunger down. I imagine that the serum is liquid adrenaline rushing through my veins, making me strong.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

            I am ready. I step into the room, armed not with a gun or a knife, but with the plan I made the night before. Tobias said on the first day of initiation that stage three is about mental preparation – coming up with strategies to overcome my fears.

            The ground beneath me changes. Grass rises beneath my feet and sways in a wind I cannot feel. A green sky appears above me. I listen for the birds and once I hear the thunder of wings behind me, and run my hand through the grass, just above the ground. What combats powerlessness? Power.

            I feel a branch and lift it up, deflecting the crows from landing on me. I feel a rush of power for overpowering the crows. My heart stops racing and the field, branch, and birds fade away. I stand in the dark again.

            I shift my weight, and something squeaks beneath my foot. I place my hands on the glass panel. The glass tank. This is about weakness and I shouldn’t tap it until it shatters like the last time.

            The water gushes from the pipes and I shrug off my jacket, stuffing it into the pipe before the water can even reach my knees. And the dark returns.

           

* * *

 

            The third fear, I struggle holding onto a rock while waves threaten to knock me off. Since this is the fear of losing control, I climb onto the rock with effort, leaving the water as the waves keep colliding into my body.

            In the next fear, I’m tied against the pole, about to be burned by Peter. Instead of struggling against the ropes like the first time, I brought on sheets of rain after Peter lit the pyre. The fear wasn’t exactly about Peter burning me. It was actually about my friends and enemies joining forces to turn against me. Being the initiate from Abnegation, it wasn’t quite far-fetched to fear this, since Abnegation is the least favorite among the other factions.

            In my fifth fear, I’m standing in my old room and the Abnegation sector and I see the scarred man in Candor black and white from the aptitude test simulation, accompanied by two faceless strangers.

            Like Peter, Drew, and Al, I can’t fight them off and since they still go after me even after I shoot them with an gun from my pocket – the gun that wasn’t in my pocket before, and when that doesn’t work, I hide in the closet.

            I sink into a crouch and press the side of the gun to my head. I can’t fight them off. I can’t fight them off, so I have to calm down. The fear landscape will register my slowing heartbeat and my even breath and it will move on to the next obstacle.

            I sit down on the floor of the closet. The wall behind me creaks. I hear pounding—the fists are at it again, hitting the closet door – but I turn and peer through the dark at the panel behind me. It is not a wall but another door. I fumble to push it aside and reveal the upstairs hallway. Smiling, I crawl through the hole and stand.

            Taking a deep breath, I watch my house fade.

            Then I hear the trigger click against my ear.

            I almost forgot about this one. I feel the heft of a gun in my hand and curl my fingers around it, slipping my index finger over the trigger. The spotlight shines from the ceiling, its source unknown, and standing in the center of its circle of light are my mother, my father, and my brother.

            “Do it,” hisses the male voice that I can’t place. The barrel of a gun presses to my temple, a cold circle against my skin. “Do it or I’ll shoot!”

            My worst fear: that my family will die, and that I will be responsible.

            I stare at Caleb. He nods, his eyebrows tugged in, sympathetic. “Go ahead, Tris,” he says softly. “I understand. It’s okay.”

            My eyes burn. “No,” I say, my throat so tight it aches. I shake my head.

            “I’ll give you ten seconds!” the mystery man shouts. “Ten! Nine!”

            My eyes skip from my brother to my father. The last time I saw him, he gave me a look of contempt, but now his eyes are wide and soft. I have never seen him wear that expression in real life.

“Tris,” he says. “You have no other option.”

“Eight!”

“Tris,” my mother says. She smiles. She has a sweet smile. “We love you.”

“Seven!”

“Shut up!” I yell. I know that they are not real, but I don’t want to kill them, even if they don’t want me to sacrifice myself for them.

I drop the gun and turn and press my forehead to the barrel of the gun behind me.

 _Shoot me instead_.

When the mystery man reaches to one, I hear a click, and a bang.

 

* * *

 

The lights come on, and I stand in the fear landscape room, shaking. I sink to my knees, wrapping my arms around my chest. It wasn’t cold when I walked in, but it feels cold now. I rub my arms to get rid of the goose bumps.

Six fears, that’s all I have.

I have never felt like this before and this will be the only time I will face my fears, which is an immense relief.

The door opens, and I stand. Max, Eric, Veronica, and the other two Dauntless leaders walk into the room in a line, standing in a small crowd in front of me. Eric smiles, though it appears rather strained.

“Congratulations, Tris,” he says. “You have successfully completed your final evaluation.”

I try to smile. It doesn’t work. I can’t shake the memory of the gun against my head. I can still feel the barrel between my eyebrows. What’s worse is that Eric saw it. I don’t want him having the mental image of me willing myself to die.

“Thanks,” I say.

“The banquet is in two hours,” he says. “Your ranking among the other initiates, Dauntless-born included, will be announced then. Good luck.”

They step aside as I walk out of the room. In the lobby, the crowd has thinned out now that the last person – me – is gone. People notice me after a few seconds, and I try to hurry through the crowd, but I can’t walk fast enough to avoid some cheers, some claps on the shoulder, some congratulations. As I look at the people around me, I realize how strange they would look to my father and mother, and how normal they seem to me, despite all the metal rings in their faces and the tattoos on their arms and throats and chests. I smile back at them.

I descend to the Pit, eager to go to the dormitory before the Welcoming Banquet.

 

* * *

 

“That was nerve-wracking, though there was no reason to be nervous,” says Christina we sit in the dormitory, waiting to be released for the Welcoming Banquet.

“Honestly, that’s something that I don’t want to experience again,” I say, pulling a pillow across my lap. “Once is enough.”

“Only that we didn’t get through the fear landscape as fast as you,” says Christina. “I turned around to talk to Will for one second, and you were already done.”

I detect a note of jealousy in her voice, and again, I wish I could explain that I was well prepared for the simulation, because of what I am. Instead I just shrug.

“I’ll just be glad that I made it through initiation,” I say.

I decide to lie on my bed and shut my eyes. I don’t know how much time has passed until I hear banging against the wall. I open my eyes and sit right up, and see Eric standing by the wall.

“Your ranks will be released in a few minutes,” he says. He looks over our faces and smirks. “Only four of you made it to the top ten and for the other two, well, let’s just say that I hope that you enjoyed your two weeks here.”

Everyone begins to file out of the room. I want to stay behind to talk to Eric, but Christina excitedly loops her arms around mine and Will’s and steers us out of the room.       

There is excitement in the air and one could almost taste it. To me, this marks the end of a torturous initiation.

 

* * *

 

The dining hall is packed with Dauntless dressed with what I can assume to be in their best – piercings becoming exaggerated by noticeable rings and all tattoos on display, even if it means to wear nothing but your underwear. We wedge through the crowds until we reach our usual table.

Uriah, Marlene, and Lynn sit with the other Dauntless-born initiates a few tables from us. I tune out Christina and Will’s chatter and just look around the room, tapping my plate with my fork. My attention is turned to the Dauntless leaders, who are setting up the projector and clearing the table in front of the wall. Any minute now and they’ll release the rankings.

Good thing I can’t hear Peter, Drew, and Molly over this, as I don’t want to hear about two of them getting their hopes up when it comes to the rankings.

I turn to face my empty plate, braiding my steel pink streaked hair trying to find something to do.

A microphone squeals somewhere, so loud I clap my hands over my ears. I look across the room at Eric, who stands on the cleared-off table with the microphone in hand, tapping it with his fingertips. After the tapping is done and the crowd of Dauntless is quiet, Eric clears his throat and begins.

“We aren’t big on speeches here. Eloquence is for Erudite,” he says. The crowd laughs, and I find myself joining in. “So I’m going to keep this short. It’s a new year, and we have a new pack of initiates. And a slightly smaller pack of new members. We offer our congratulations.”

At the word “congratulations” the room erupts, not into applause, but into the pounding of fists on tabletops. The noise vibrates in my chest, and I grin.

“We believe in bravery. We believe in taking action. We believe in freedom from fear and in acquiring the skills to force the bad out of our world so that the good can prosper and thrive. If you also believe in those things, we welcome you.”

I believe in what he says, because bravery isn’t trampling on others who you think are weaker than yourself. There are many forms of bravery but _that_ isn’t one of them.

More pounding fists, this time accompanied by whoops.

“Tomorrow, in their first act as members, our top ten initiates will choose their professions, in the order of how they are ranked,” Eric says. “The rankings, I know, are what everyone is really waiting for. They are determined by a combination of three scores – the first, from the combat stage of training; the second, from the simulation stage; and the third, from the final examination, the fear landscape. The rankings will appear on the screen behind me.”

As soon as the word “me” leaves his mouth, the names appear on the screen, which is almost as large as the wall itself. Next to the number one is my picture, and the name “Tris.”

A weight in my chest lifts. I didn’t realize it was there until it was gone, and I didn’t have to feel it anymore. I smile, and a tingling spreads through me. First. Divergent or not, this faction is where I belong.

Will’s arms wrap around me and he gives me a bear hug. I hear cheering and laughing and shouting. Christina points at the screen, her eyes wide and filled with tears.

_First: Tris_

_Second: Uriah_

_Third: Lynn_

_Fourth: Marlene_

_Fifth: Peter_

Peter stays. That was going to happen anyway. I suppress a sigh. But then I read the rest of the names.

_Sixth: Will_

_Seventh: Christina_

I smile, and Christina reaches across the table to hug me. I am too distracted to protest against the affection. She laughs in my ear.

Someone grabs me from behind and shouts in my ear. It’s Uriah. I can’t turn around, so I reach back and squeeze his shoulder.

“Congratulations!” I shout.

“You beat them!” he shouts back. He releases me, laughing, and runs into a crowd of Dauntless-born initiates.

I crane my neck to look at the screen again. I follow the list down:

_Eighth: Gabe_

_Ninth: Monica_

_Tenth: Kenneth_

_Eleventh: Molly_

_Twelfth: Drew_

Drew, who ran away after Eric caught Peter holding me over the railing of the chasm, and Molly, who fed the Erudite lies about my father, are factionless.

It isn’t quite the victory I wanted, but it’s a victory nonetheless.

_Thirteen: Jordan_

_Fourteen: Jackson_

_Fifteen: Addy_

Will and Christina kiss. All around me is the pounding of Dauntless fists, though I can’t stop grinning at the baffled expressions on Molly and Drew’s faces, like they are hoping they are reading the screen wrong.

Then I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see Eric standing behind me. I get up, beaming.

“I doubt that a hug can’t give anything away,” he says.

“You know,” I tell him, “I really don’t care.”

I place my hands on his shoulders and press my lips to his.

It is the best moment of my life, like the sound fist pounding in the room means nothing to me.

He wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me closer as the kiss deepens. When our lips separate, from my peripheral vision, I see Tobias darting out of the room, his hands balled into fists.

I look over my shoulder to see Will and Christina standing a foot from me – staring with open mouths, probably because I kissed Eric.

I should explain to them after the banquet.

 

* * *

 

The banquet lasts another two hours and when we arrive back at the dormitory, I feel like lead, full from food and exhausted from the fear landscape. Before I could gather my pajamas, Christina grabs my wrist and drags me into the empty bathroom.

She looks around in case anyone is listening before facing me, her hands on my shoulders.

“When did this thing with Eric start?” she asks curiously.

I gulp and I sigh. “Well, after those hours in stage one, we started to hang out for real,” I say. “I didn’t know that a relationship was going to form from _that_ , but it did.”

“What concerns me is your apparent taste in boys,” she says, scratching the back of her head, “or men, I should say. I swear, he’s got _danger_ stamped on his head.”

“He’s not that bad,” I defend. “Cocky and arrogant, yes, but it’s like I have access to something that he doesn’t want to show about himself. He’s…complicated, I say.”

“So, he’s your first boyfriend, I take it,” she deduces.

“Well, you can say that,” I say, crossing my arms against my chest.

“Well, I would have found it cute if I he wasn’t too intimidating,” she says. “If he does anything, I swear I’ll kill him.”

One thing that I’m thankful for: that I didn’t lose Christina as an friend for what recently happened.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

The ten of us sit in the hallway leading to the leaders’ offices, waiting for our job selections to start. My clothes and book are kept in a bed sheet that I tied together with rope, and the sack lies at my feet.

            I sit between Christina and Uriah; sitting across from me is Peter, who is scowling at me every now and then. I thought I can hear “sleeping her way up to the top” under his breath every now and then. If he thinks that I was ranked first because of my relationship with Eric, he’s an idiot.

            I hear one of the five doors open and I look up to see Veronica. “Tris Prior.”

            I pick up my nap sack and enter her office, which doesn’t look that much different from Eric’s.

            “Alright,” she says, closing the door behind me as I sit in the chair in front of the desk. “Since you ranked first, you have the honor of getting first pick. Those ranking in the top five have more job opportunities and have early access to applying for desirable jobs. If you don’t want an very impressive job, that’s fine with me. Even the high ranking initiates prefer modest professions.”

            She gives me the first piece of paper on her desk and I look at it:

            **_Name: Tris Prior_**

**_ID Number: #7234765_ **

**_Job Options:_ **

**_Leader-in-training (one opening)_ **

**_Faction Representative (one opening)_ **

**_Adjutant to the Leaders (one opening)_ **

**_Technical Support Member (two openings)_ **

**_Control Room Operator (one opening)_ **

**_Initiate Instructor: Transfers or Dauntless-born (seasonal) (three openings)_ **

**_Aptitude Test Administrator (seasonal) (four openings)_ **

**_Tattoo Artist (two openings)_ **

**_Fence Guard (five openings)_ **

**_Custodial Member (two openings)_ **

            Of the three first listed, I prefer the Faction Representative. Being a transfer, it would benefit faction relations. I’m definitely not going to work in the custodial department. That would only give Peter satisfaction. However, I’m filled with satisfaction thinking about the fact that Molly will be doing what she and Peter assumed that I’d be doing: cleaning public toilets while factionless.

            Then I remember the butter knife in Edward’s eye and Peter bending me over in the chasm, and how Peter wasn’t expelled. The latter wouldn’t have happened if he was expelled right after the butter knife incident.

            I want to change that rule and since being an representative or adjutant wouldn’t enable that, it left me no other choice. So I circle the first option without second thought and hand the paper to Veronica.

            She glances at my paper and nods in approval. “With what happened during initiation, I could see why you would apply for leader-in-training.”

            “Characters like Peter are the opposite of Dauntless standards,” I say.

            “Well, sometimes we get people who think that squashing the little guy is bravery,” she says. “Unfortunately, we can’t have things our way.”

            She puts her hand in a wooden carton and hands me an small envelope. Written on it is _The Pire, C4, fourth floor_ and running my thumb over the surface of the envelope, I feel the shape of a key.

            “Tomorrow at ten, you will meet with Max and Eric at the conference room with the other candidates. The selection process takes a week and if chosen, you will go through several months of skills tests and they will test you in certain areas,” she says, printing another piece of paper and replacing the sheet on top with it. “Good luck.”

            I nod and pick up my nap sack before leaving the office and I walk towards the elevators when Veronica calls for Uriah.

 

* * *

 

            My apartment is on the fourth floor – which is one floor above Eric’s – and is the second door on the left. It is only slightly smaller than his apartment, with the kitchen and the living room on opposite sides, like a mirror image. The apartment smells of bleach and candied lemon like they spent cleaning this apartment the day before.

            I go in the small hallway to see only two doors facing each other. I open the door on my left to see a bare bedroom with a bare double mattress in a bed frame and a plywood dresser. I turn on the lights and set down the sack so I could look for sheets and bedcovers.

            They are in the bottom drawers, and though freshly laundered, the sheets and pillow cases are slightly frayed at the edges from prior use. I pull the mattress sheet over the mattress and pull the corners tightly; the same with the first two bottom sheets.

            After pulling the pillowcases over the pillows, I pick up a dark green and royal blue patchwork and pull it over the sheets and the pillows. I turn to my nap sack and place it on the bed, untying the cord.

            I put my black clothes into the drawers and decided to keep on going until I see the grey dress I wore when I first came here as an initiate. I hold it to my body and see how small it looks. I wouldn’t fit into it anyway and besides I’m in a new faction, so there wouldn’t be use for it anyway. I wrap it over my arm and set the dress aside, planning to discard it anyway.

            I pick up the book and place it on the glass nightstand by the bed. I leave the bedroom and go into the living room where I set the key and it’s spare. I take out the spare key to Eric’s apartment and attach it to the key ring, where the key to _my_ apartment is already attached.

 

* * *

 

            “Even after initiation, you want to scare the other initiates?” Uriah asks Christina as we wait for Will and the others to join us for lunch.

            “It will be fun,” she says. “Well, it’s only seasonal, so I’ll be working at the tattoo shop.”

            “Better than the fence, that’s for sure,” Lynn grumbles when she sits down with us. With her are Shauna and a boy that looks a few years younger than Lynn; Hector, I thought they call him.

            “Did you get the fence?” asks Uriah.

            “I’ve chosen Faction Representative,” says Lynn. “It’s better than the fence.”

            “Hey, it’s not as bad as it looks,” says Shauna as Zeke joins us.

            “I don’t know how you do it, Shauna, but personally, I’m glad that I’m not going to come in with a foot of snow sticking to my boots.”

            “One can’t stay down here all the time,” says Shauna.

            “Yeah, and you’ll get sunburned pretty badly as a result,” says Will, sitting down next to Christina.

            “Did you get the fence?” I ask Will, barely aware that Tobias is sitting with Zeke and Shauna.

            “I thought I would put my Erudite skills to use, so I applied for the technical support,” says Will.

            “I knew it, being that the know-it-all you are.” Christina elbows him, smiling before turning to me. “What job did you apply for, Tris?”

            I tell them that I applied for leader-in-training, explaining what Veronica told me about the selection process and the training, without making it sound too impressive. I don’t want to have a repeat after the stage two ranking announcement. When I finish, Christina says, “I guess we should have outranked her during stage two.”

            “Or edged her out of the rankings,” says Uriah.

            “Or both,” says Will, grinning at me. “Nice job, Tris. You deserve it.”

            “Better you then Peter,” says Christina. “He’d abuse his power after all.”

            “Just don’t get your hopes up,” says Tobias, looking at me for the first time since he sat down. “The criteria for a new Dauntless leader isn’t always met nowadays.”

            “Don’t ruin it with your negativity, Four,” I hear Eric say, and I see him drop an tray next to mine before sitting close next to me, close enough that our legs are actually touching. “Congratulations, Tris. You’ll get it.”

            He kisses me on the lips and wraps one of his arms around my waist and pulls me close so that I’m nearly sitting on his lap. Christina and Will look as if one of them walked in on someone going to the bathroom. Tobias misses his mouth and smears the mash potatoes on his cheek.

            “So,” Shauna says to me, trying to break the awkward tension, “you signed up for leader-in-training?”

            I nod. “It wasn’t my first choice. I was originally going to apply for adjutant to the leaders, though, considering what’s happened during initiation…”

            “The system is designed to attract the most determined, though that doesn’t equate with stabbing an initiate with an eye with a butter knife or attempting to toss them into the chasm,” says Eric. “Dauntless wants members who are determined to have a place in our faction. Unfortunately, it seems I haven’t been clear enough about determination.”

            “Oh, that’s what you’re claiming now,” says Tobias, wiping his face.

            “Dauntless initiation isn’t meant to be easy,” Eric replies. “By the most determined I mean by not attempted murder and beating an opponent to a bloody pulp. The most determined should go beyond their limits if they don’t appear to have the physical capacity, and those with the physical capacity should also have the emotional capacity to be Dauntless.”

            “That’s not what you said when Max asked you about your vision for Dauntless during the selection process,” says Four.

            “I wasn’t specific for a reason.” Eric removes his hand from me and straightens his posture. “If an initiate misinterprets determination for mindless brutality and attempted murder, it’s because they are idiots.”

            Tobias looks like he might say more, but instead stands up, takes his tray, and carries it to the trash and the tray return.

            “This is nothing new, trust me,” Shauna says to me.

            “I got the hint that they didn’t like each other the first night I was here,” I reply.

            “It’s common knowledge that Four and Eric act like a couple Lower Levels children while in the same room,” says Jocelyn as she and Sean sit down

            “Very funny, Jocelyn,” says Eric.

            “Okay, there is no way I’m getting in the middle of that one,” says Christina.

            “Please don’t,” Lynn advises. “It will be bad for your health.”

 

* * *

 

            Due to the Dauntless credits that I received today since I have officially became Dauntless, I stop by the necessities shop – which is next to the clothing place after lunch. It sells everything from food to care products to luxury items.

            I try to keep it simple, like buying a pair of hair clippers, soap scented body wash, and dandruff shampoo. Though out of adventurous curiosity, I buy a thing of eyeliner and amber musk perfume.

            On my way out, I cross Peter and I look to other way, trying to pretend he’s not there.

            “I guess you’re not such a Stiff after all,” I hear him say, causing me to turn and look at him. “Considering how you ranked first.”

            Peter is lucky that we’re in a populated area, or else I would punch all of his teeth out.

 

* * *

 

            “First tattoos, then you streaked your hair, now you’ve gotten an eyebrow piercing?” asks Christina after I have left the piercing shop that’s blocked by a curtain from the tattoo parlor.

            “I was going to get one anyway,” I say, feeling the burning from the recently acquired piercing. “Rather the eyebrow then the lips.”

            “I still don’t understand why people can eat with metal in their mouths.” Christina shakes her head. “I like to chat more but I’m still doing orientation.”

            I nod before walking past a mirror. When I first jumped the net, my hair was natural and my skin was free from any ink and metal. Now, there are steel pink streaks in my hair, tattoos on the side of my collarbone and shoulders, and now a stud on my right eyebrow.

            It’s as if I never walked out of the Abnegation sector. People might assume that I was Dauntless-born, though would have to act like it.

            When I leave the tattoo parlor, an arm wraps itself around my waist in an possessive manner, but I don’t need to know it is.

            “Who would know that a former Stiff like you would piece their eyebrow,” he says, carefully touching the new piercing.

            “I was going to get one anyway, Eric,” I say. “It’s not like I was going to be embellished anytime soon.”

            “Get microdermals, that way the two of you can match,” I hear Sean quip followed by someone elbowing him.

            “Let’s see if there’s any chocolate cake left before someone eats it all,” says Jocelyn.

            The dining hall is full of the usual activity, with people just leaving work or having a meal before their nightshift. Eric still has his arm wrapped around my waist as we enter the food line, though it feels like someone is looking at us every now and then.

           

* * *

 

            The next morning is that of a typical Abnegation – plain breakfast consisting of oatmeal and bacon, a quick cold shower, and not looking into the mirror before leaving the apartment – only I’m wearing tight black clothing.

            I go in the elevator, standing with Dauntless members who on their way to work. In Abnegation, everyone knows who is who, but this doesn’t seem to be the case with Dauntless members. Perhaps the Dauntless form their own communities within the faction.

            Like I did during my initiation.

            People gradually leave the elevator or new people come in on my way to the tenth floor. After I get to the tenth floor, I pull my hair back and tie it in a ponytail as I approach the conference room door, where Max is waiting.

            He smiles at me when I enter and I see that the table is surrounded by other young Dauntless, the oldest who happens to be in his late twenties and the youngest is probably two years older than me, like the same age of Eric. Eric is leaning against the wall, analyzing everyone in the room with a critical eye.

All of them are pierced and tattooed which makes me relieved that I don’t stand out with my streaked hair, pierced eyebrow and ravens on the side of my collarbone; my other two tattoos are covered by my black jacket.

            I sit down next to a girl whose hair is such an bright blue that just looking at her would render me blind; I might get used to it after an while.

            “Now,” says Max, closing the door. “You’re all here because you’ve shown potential, either by enthusiasm for this faction and its future or you carry the credentials for this position.” He probably considers me as the latter, though I fit more for the former. “Our city is changing, faster now than ever before, and it order to keep up with it, we’ll have to change too. We are already becoming stronger than before, though a new leader will be given the chance of changing a few things to make us better. And among you are the people who can suggest making us better. The selection process will last an week, and after which, we’ll be conducting an series of skills tests for the next several months, to teach you what you’ll know, but also to see how quickly you’ll learn.”

            It’s like he’s said this many times but what leaves a bad taste in my mouth was when Max said something about the city changing fast.

            Eric steps forward. “First thing: Every one of you will fill out this information sheet.” Eric holds up an sheet of paper. “This enables us to know more information about us, and this is for a starting point for your progress for the duration of the week. Be honest about yourself and don’t make exaggerations about yourself. Errors can only come from there.”

            When given the sheet, I review the questions before answering them.

            _What is your name?_

Tris Prior

            _What’s your age?_

Sixteen

            _What is your faction of origin?_

Abnegation

            The fourth question asks me how many fears I have, so I write in _six_ , and after it, is the question about what were they. Eric said to be honest, so I will be. The first five were a breeze to answer, though I hesitate for the sixth one. I decide to put in _losing the ones I love and being responsible for it_. It’s not quite the truth but that’s what my fear can be considered in retrospect.

            The next questions are trick worded and I have to disagree or agree with them, though it doesn’t take me long to decipher them.

            _It’s okay to steal if it’s to help someone else._

Agree.

            _Some people are more deserving of rewards._

Maybe, it depends who they are giving it to.

            _Power should be given to those who earn it._

I hesitate on that one.I was taught that power should be given to those who don’t want it, though this is not Abnegation. So, I circle ‘agree’.

            _Difficult circumstances form stronger people_.

            Agree

            _You don’t know how strong a person really is until they are tested._

Agree.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

            “Nothing that attacks the Abnegation yet, though the Erudite released an informing sociology report about the factionless,” says Eric as we sat to wait for our friends for lunch.

            “What do sociologists do?” I ask.

            “They study human behavior and how society functions as a whole,” Eric answers. “Nothing studied in Upper Levels, and one only knows about it if they lived in Erudite.”

            I look down at the report. Things that stick out to me are _Rather than isolating themselves, they form their own communities_ and _during times of desperation, people tend to lean together for support_. I blink twice, making sure that I read it right.

            I was taught to believe that being factionless was a fate worst then death, and that they were without an community, and I get the usual aching feeling that I have been lied to.

            “This is different from what I was taught,” I tell him with all honesty.

            “Being in the factionless slums would not be pleasant, but being factionless does not equate isolation,” he replies. “As large as the factionless population is, I’m not surprised if they form their own communities.”

            “Yeah, because they are twice the size of Dauntless,” says Jocelyn, as she sits down across from us.

            “How would they get big?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

            “The factionless are composed of those who fail their initiation – except only that no one fails either Amity or Abnegation initiation from what I heard,” says Eric.

            “I’d think I would fail Amity initiation,” says Christina, who’s sitting down at my other side. “I’m not cheerful to the point of insanity.”

            Eric glares at her before turning back to me and continuing, “The factionless are also composed of Dauntless that are considered too old for this faction.”

            I wait a beat. “Wait. Too old?”

            “When a Dauntless reaches fifty-five or they reach a certain level of physical deterioration, they are given the request to leave,” Eric answers, “either by moving into the factionless slums or voluntarily biting the dust.”

            “Voluntarily biting the dust?” I ask, as Tobias sits somewhere across from us.

            Eric opens his mouth to answer but Tobias beats him to it. “Let’s just say that for some, death is preferable to factionlessness.”

            “Oh, you plan on biting the dust when the time comes for you?” Eric sneers. “Death must be comforting compared to receiving charity from the Stiffs.”

            Eric is dangerously close to revealing Tobias’s true identity at the table, especially with that comment about “receiving charity from Stiffs.” He always knew about Tobias’s real faction of origin, but has probably wished to reveal it to anyone listening.

            Tobias tenses up and before he can answer, fortunately, Shauna, Zeke, and Lynn join us before this progresses into a brawl.

            “Still up for a game of Dare?” asks Zeke.

            Oh, that game that Shauna mentioned the day before the final examinations. “Well, as long as I don’t jump off a one hundred story building.”

            Zeke laughs. “We’re not that hardcore. You’ll just do the dare that someone holding the flask will want you to do, and you’ll assign a dare to another person while holding the flask.”

            “As I said, everyone who participates gets intoxicated at the end of it,” says Eric.

            “Then that’s why I’m not participating,” Lynn grumbles. “I don’t want to come to representative training in an hangover.”

            “Come on, you can’t be serious all the time after initiation,” says Uriah, elbowing her.

            “If they are passing around a flask of scotch, then it’s a ‘no’,” Lynn replies.

 

* * *

 

            “For a high level Dauntless, it’s highly important to understand how computer programs work,” says Eric. “The surveillance program in the control room is an obvious one – a Dauntless leader should sometimes have to observe and monitor situations here and situations in other factions. Second, we have the fear simulation programs, which is essential for you to understand when examining initiates’ records and initiation progress. Third, there is the currency tracking system, which keeps commerce in our faction steady, stable, and smooth. At least six of these programs are sophisticated and have no bugs, which means that you have to learn computer skills without difficulty, if they are lacking depending on the faction you originated from. Today, you’ll be learning about computer skills.”

            He gestures to Lauren, the instructor for the Dauntless-born initiates. I wonder what she’s doing here, though she probably works with computers when initiation is over.

            “As some of you know, Lauren is the instructor for the Dauntless-born initiates,” Eric continues, “however, since it’s seasonal, she is part of our technical support team here in this compound, specializing in the computers in this building. She’ll be teaching you on the very basics in computer skills. Being proficient with computers isn’t just for Erudite, just to let you know. Each faction has to have a certain degree of computer literacy, unless I’m mistaken.”

            I nod, knowing how right he is. Though the Erudite dependents spent a lot of time in the computer labs during school, all of us had to take tests and do assignments on computers, since it was mandatory. I’m not a computer expert, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not fascinated with how computers work. I accidentally expressed curiosity about it one day an few months ago, and Ms. Katherine French, the librarian – Erudite, obviously, because their professions are concerned with academics – at the Upper Levels school, asked if I can learn how to take extra computer lessons to know the advanced stuff.

            Though it was tempting, I politely declined, knowing my father’s disapproval if he learned that I was spending my volunteer hours on a tool commonly used by the Erudite.

            “Go ahead,” Eric says, lacing his fingers together. “I’ll be back in an hour after doing some important matters.”

            Eric leaves, and Lauren claps her hands together.

            “Right,” she says. “Today we’re going to talk about how programming works. Those of you who already have some experience with this, please feel free to tune out. The rest of you better keep focused because I’m not going to repeat myself. Learning this stuff is like learning a language – it’s not enough to memorize words; you also have to understand the rules and why they work the way they do.”

            When I was younger, I did my assignments as I read the assigned text. Though Lauren is fast, I manage to keep up with her as I took notes of technical terms and definitions with an pen and notebook that I was handed after I entered. I wonder if my mind works fast because I’m either smart or Divergent; probably the latter, because some of the other candidates give up taking notes after a while.

            She shows examples of what she’s talking about on the screen in front of the room and I draw diagrams as she speaks.

            It feels as if my brain is becoming an weighted sponge that needs to be wrung out when Lauren presses an button for the display screen to withdraw into the ceiling.

            “On the desktop of your computer, you’ll find a file marked ‘Programming Test’,” she says. “Open it. It will take you to an timed exam. You’ll go through a series of small programs and mark errors you find that are causing them to malfunction. They might be really big things, like the order of the code, or really smart things, like a misplaced word or marker. You don’t have to fix them right now, but you do have to be able to spot them. There will be one error per program. Go!”

            Everyone starts frantically tapping their screens. I tap on the file and prop up my notes for reference. _Learning this stuff is like learning a language_ , I think to myself.

            I look at my notes as I start. I start the first one, looking for an flaw, large or small, that could cause the program to malfunction. I mark the code where it finishes in the wrong place or in the wrong order before I continue on.

            With the next program, I do the same, though slightly faster, and I pay attention to the quotation marks, periods, and backlashes.

            As I go on, I become absorbed in the task that I forget about the people around me. I just focus about what is in front of me, the tangle of words on my screen. Finally I touch the arrow button and a new image pops up. _EXAM COMPLETE_ , it says.

            “Good job,” Lauren says, when she comes by to check my screen. “You’re the second one to finish.”

 

* * *

 

            I’m about to go to apartment before dinner when I see something that catches my eye. Something blue.

            Frowning, I squint through the panes of glass to look two floors down and I see just as I suspected: Jeanine Matthews, carrying a black folder, and shaking hands with Max. Doesn’t she have better things to do? Is there a faction she is supposed to be running? An initiation she is supposed to be observing?

            I walk away and look for the directory. I have to see what she’s up to.

 

* * *

 

            The control room is in the eighth floor. It’s in a short hallway and around the bend, the door wide open. When I enter, I’m greeted by a wall of screens and a few people sit behind it, at desks, and there are more desks along the walls where more people sit, each with a computer of their own. The footage changes every five seconds, showing different parts of the city – the Millennium Park at the Erudite sector, the sphere-shaped building that is Amity headquarters, and the calm Abnegation streets. I gaze at it before it changes and I look for Uriah.

            He’s sitting at a desk on the right wall, sitting next to Tobias, typing something into a dialog box on the left half of his screen while footage plays on the right half. Everyone is wearing headphones. Must be the audio for the footage they are watching.

            “Uriah,” I say quietly. Tobias looks at me like he wants to scold me and takes off his headphones.

            “Hey, Tris!” he greets. “I’m glad you came, Four hasn’t done much to – what’s wrong? That little coward again?”

            He looks at my face. I must look apprehensive by the looks of it.

            “I was wondering, if you have footage of the leaders’ offices,” I whisper. “Max specifically.”

            “You can look on my computer, Tris,” I hear Tobias whisper to me before Uriah can even answer. I go over to his computer and stand over his shoulder, obscuring view as I take Tobias’s headphones and turn on the volume.

            Tobias changes the feed, and I see it: Jeanine is sitting in a chair in front of a desk in what can be assumed be Max’s office.

            “I’m sure Eric gave you information about our remaining candidates,” says Max, though he sounds unhappy by the thought.

            “Yes,” she says. “How many are left, exactly?”

            “I narrowed it down to five,” Max answers. “I’d say that’s pretty good for the second day after initiation.”

            “It’s not sufficient,” Jeanine says tersely. “Looking through the files of the remaining candidates, only one fits the criteria suitable for the job.”

            “ _Your_ criteria, you mean,” Max criticizes. “This is my faction, and I’m still not pleased with the candidate that you insisted on becoming appointed two years ago.”

            “Eric Matheson is doing wonders for this faction, is he not?” Jeanine presses.

            “Yes, but –” Max begins.

            “Then you should trust my judgment,” Jeanine interrupts, cutting cleanly across his words. “Beatrice Prior fits the criteria needed to perform certain affairs for this faction.”

            “Tris? Don’t get me wrong, she fits the criteria, but I doubt that she’s ready to take on what you’re suggesting,” says Max.

            “Not ready? Eric took her under his wing for stage one,” Jeanine says. “That means she has potential of helping my cause. Since Divergent rebels are going under his nose, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone aid him in his assignment.”

            Tobias snatches the headphones from my head. “You have to get out of here, or I could lose my job,” he says. He looks serious and worried. I don’t argue. I just slip out of the control room and go back to the direction where I came from.

            Nothing makes sense. If Jeanine wanted me dead beforehand, why is she so insistent that I become an new Dauntless leader? _Beatrice Prior fits the criteria needed to perform certain affairs for this faction_.

            What certain affairs? I can only imagine that they are not good.

           

* * *

 

            Shauna holds on the side of the train car, careful that she doesn’t fall out. In her hand is a silver flask.

            “First person picks someone and dares them to do something,” she says. “Then that person has a drink, does the dare, and gets a chance to dare someone else to do something. And when everyone has done their dare – or died trying – we get a little drunk and stumble home.”

            The train car consists of some Dauntless members who have been here for two to four years. Add the fresh members from the recent initiation, which consist of me, Christina, Will, Uriah, and Marlene. Eric sits next to me, his arm wrapped around my waist. Across from us are Zeke, Jocelyn, and Sean. Tobias is nowhere in sight.

            He probably wasn’t interested in coming.

            “Is this like capture the flag?” asks Will. “Do we win?”

            “You win without being a Nose,” she retorts, stumbling a little before continuing, “I’m going to go first, as keeper of the flask. Zeke, I dare you to climb the sculpture outside the Upper Levels building.”

            She pops the cap on and tosses it to him. Everyone in the car cheers as Zeke screws the cap off and swallows some of the scotch.

            “Don’t get your hopes up if you think I might lose my balance!” shouts Zeke.

            “It’s not like we’ll think that, as only a pansycake will lose their balance,” says Jocelyn. “Those that are not Dauntless material, anyway.”

            “I wonder where you learned that term from?” asks Sean.

            “What’s pansycake?” I ask.

            “Old Dauntless slang. It is supposed to be a huge insult, but no one uses it because it’s so offensive,” says Uriah.

            “It’s an idiotic slang,” says Eric. “Only with an individual with an IQ of a Lower Levels student would use that.”

            “Did you just say an Erudite insult?” asks Zeke.

            “Only that it’s more mature then pansycake,” he retorts.

            “Time to jump!” shouts Shauna. Zeke is the first to get up, since he is doing the dare. I stand on my feet in the dark train car and I jump after Christina into the night, my feet landing on the pavement.

            “Are you sure you weren’t born in Abnegation? Because that wasn’t too bad,” says Will, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

            “She’s Dauntless through and through,” says Uriah. “She wouldn’t have jumped off the train if she didn’t want to.”

            “Usually Stiffs chicken out on things like this. She doesn’t.” Eric smirks. “Anyone who thought that she wouldn’t pass initiation was an idiot.”

            “Yeah, like Peter.” Christina rolls her eyes.

            “Well, it’s not like the Candor are intelligent,” says Eric.

            Christina glares at him. She probably doesn’t appreciate the jab to her former faction.

            “Remember who’s here. Right?” says Jocelyn, her expression a mixture of irritation and amusement. “Let’s go.”

            Unlike the night of capture the flag, there is no moon to light up the sky, making everything more nightmarish then before. I could hardly understand why the Dauntless enjoy doing things under the cover of darkness.

            Perhaps that has something to do with it; they aren’t afraid of what goes on in the dark.

            “You’ll see that the young Dauntless often like to climb the sculpture outside the Upper Levels building,” says Eric as we approach the school district in the city’s center. “Seems to be one of their favorite hotspots.”

            “Yeah, they would dare each other to climb higher,” says Sean.

            “One fell and broke her leg a few years ago,” I cut in. “I was the one that sent for the nurse.”

            “And you were the only Abnegation that bothered to?” asks Christina, raising her eyebrow.

            “I was the only Abnegation present,” I clarify. “I was watching them after school when that happened.”

            “Let me get this straight: you would watch us during your spare time?” asks Uriah.

            I nod.

            “Guess you are not such a Stiff after all then,” says Uriah, like it’s a lighthearted joke. I elbow him in the ribs, smiling like a lunatic.

            At night, the Upper Levels building looks like a block of black glass, though the lamps under the five entrances make the faction symbols visible. Though it’s required to leave only the lobby lights on to conserve energy at night, they see these lights are necessary so that no one would collide with the sculpture.

            Zeke hands the silver flask to Uriah, and cracks his knuckles as he approaches the sculpture.

            “I bet five Dauntless credits that he falls,” says someone with amusement.

            “Shut up,” I hear Jocelyn retort. “Betting away your credits is just plain idiotic.”

            Uriah hands me the flask. I sniff and I wrinkle my nose. With caution, I unscrew the cap and take an sip. I shake my head after taking a sip, feeling slightly woozy, though I maintain my balance. I stand with the others as Zeke climbs up the sculpture.

 

* * *

 

            After Zeke finished climbing the sculpture, he dared Uriah to climb the building behind the Hub, and once Uriah finished, he dared Marlene to enter an abandoned building to retrieve something; she came out with a rusted out pipe.

            She teeters over the floor of the car, the alcohol an bit too strong for her small frame.

            “Who has yet to go?” she looks around, before her eyes meet Eric’s. “Oh, you.”

            Everyone stops talking and they all glance at his direction. He doesn’t let that bother him. “I’m sure you have something interesting in mind. Go on.” Eric smirks. 

            Marlene hiccups nervously, before saying, “I dare you, to climb that center, abstract sculpture in Millennium Park.”

            Millennium Park. That’s in the Erudite sector, where my brother is. Marlene tosses him the flask and he catches it with ease.

            “I admire your nerve,” he tells her, smirking broadly. “Just tell me when we get there.”

            Once Eric is finished, it’s going to be my turn. I can feel it.

 

* * *

 

            The Erudite sector is the only section of the city that keeps its lights on all night, which violates the city’s energy conservation laws. However, at this time of night, I’m relieved that we have lights to show us where we are going. 

            The streets are well-kept here, as are the sidewalks. Looking at the buildings, I see that some lights are off while most are on.

            “Reckon that your sister is up?” I hear Christina ask Will from behind me.

            Will introduced me and mother to his sister on Visiting Day. Though she looked perturbed seeing mother, she still managed to be courteous, though in an cold manner. From what Will said, his sister believes strongly in the reports against the Abnegation, though that doesn’t prevent her from being on acting professionally when it comes to the aptitude tests.

            “I doubt it,” Will answers. “It’s past midnight.”

            “Nor should you risk it,” Eric reminds him. “There is ‘Faction before Blood’ to consider.”

            I look at the building that could only be Erudite headquarters. The lights are on in what looks like an library, where only an handful of people are in there, bent over an book or on an computer. I keep scanning the room to see if I can spot my brother, but I don’t see him unfortunately.

            Since it’s after midnight, he’s most likely in bed with the other initiates. Probably thinking over the next day’s academic training.

            “Your brother is here, right?” asks Uriah.

            “Yeah, he chose Erudite,” I answer.

            “Perhaps you can sneak up to their dormitory and surprise the Noses that way.” Uriah grins playfully. “They probably wouldn’t notice.”

            “Have fun getting away with that,” Zeke chuckles. “They might tar and feather you for trespassing.”

            Across from Erudite headquarters is Millennium Park. It’s an bare stretch of land with several rusted out sculptures – one the abstract, the second a plated mammoth, and another shaped like an lima bean.

            We approach the abstract sculpture – which is in the center – and Eric hands Sean the silver flask. He looks sure of himself when he puts his feet on the base of the sculpture and his hand on the metal beam of the sculpture.

            This is different compared to watching the dependents climb the sculpture, since he’s an full member, though I’m not sure if he’s climbed sculptures before.

            I do remind myself that he knows how to jump on and off a train. He doesn’t seem to have trouble. His breaths are steady as he maneuvers around the sculpture, climbing higher each time.

            “Is he even human?” I hear Christina ask.

            “He’s Dauntless,” says Jocelyn in response. “That’s what’s expected.”

            “I’m surprised that he hasn’t missed an step,” says Zeke.

            “Now, don’t jinx it or Dauntless will be short one leader,” says Shauna in reply.

            Eventually, he makes it up to the top of the sculpture and one could see his triumphant smirk from a distance. “Hopefully, you don’t question the fact that I’m _physically_ Dauntless as well.”

            “Well, you had us worried there, Eric!” Jocelyn calls up to him. “Some of us thought that being an faction leader was the only Dauntless thing you did.”

            Laughter rolls through the group and I find myself joining. The Dauntless have an strange and morbid sense of humor, something that I’ll get used to.

 

* * *

 

            “Now, who hasn’t gone yet?” Eric’s eyes scan the train car, lingering on those who haven’t been challenged for an dare yet before his eyes fall on me. “Ah, yes, the former Stiff.”

            The way he says it sounds rather playful and lighthearted that I don’t take it as an insult. He didn’t say it in an way that degraded me, that which I’m thankful for.

            “I dare you, to zip line from the top of the John Hancock building.” With that, he screws the cap on and throws it to me. Uriah claps me on the back with his hand. Zip lining, something that the Dauntless-born did on Visiting Day. Something that I have wanted to experience.

            “Fine. Have it your way,” I say, and I unscrew the cap and take an swallow of the scotch.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

The Hancock building is one hundred stories high, which is perfect for engaging in an activity that requires a rush of adrenaline. Zeke, Uriah, and Shauna have volunteered to be with me at the starting point while the rest will be where the line ends to catch me.

            Though the building is empty, it gives an eerie feeling due to darkness, though the graffiti is somewhat luminous. We file in one of the elevators and Shauna presses her thumb on the right button.

            The elevator zooms up so fast that I stumble backward and my body hits the metal wall, or maybe it’s the effects of the scotch in my system. Perhaps it’s not a good idea that I drank that much liquor, as my body is not quite familiar with the stuff.

            Good thing that I have nothing important planned in the morning, because I’m going to wake up in a hangover. Though I have to meet at the conference for that leadership thing at three in the afternoon.

            The elevator comes to an stop at one-hundred and I’m beginning to feel woozy. It’s not long before I regain my balance and I follow them out of the elevator.

            An strong wind hits me, and I look up to see an gaping hole in the ceiling of the hundredth floor. Zeke props an ladder and starts to climb, with Shauna following. I grab the first rung above my head and begin climb, trying to hold the contents of my stomach in.

            Biting my lip, I reach the opening of the gap and pull myself to the roof. The wind is powerful enough to blow my hair across my face, though I can see the skyline of the city from here. If only I could see it in a panoramic view.

            Attached to one of the poles on top of the tower is a steel cable, and on the ground is a pile of black slings large enough to fit an human. Uriah grabs one of them attaches it to a pulley that hangs from the cable.

            I don’t even look where it ends when I approach the sling. I climb in the sling, face down, though my hands are shaking.

            The straps tighten around my midsection and Zeke slides me forward, to the edge of the roof. I try not to think what I drank when I look down from underneath me. I’m an fool for doing this, for participating in this game, but I passed Dauntless initiation, so I must prove that I’m truly Dauntless.

            “Ready?” asks Zeke.

            I nod and he releases the sling. I forget about everything: about Uriah, Eric, and the implications of this stunt and I just keep my eyes focused on the landscape as I hurtle through it.

            It’s as if I’m nothing, like I’m weightless and have no substance, like I’m just an small particle in the wind. I look beside me and see my reflection on the glass planes on the neighboring buildings, like I’m not worried that the pulley could break and lead to my inevitable death.

            I pull my arms out to the side and imagine that I am flying, like one of the ravens tattooed on my chest. Feeling free, without having to worry about restraint.

            I see an building emerging into view and I pull my arms to the side, my heart beating against my chest as I gaze at the gouge in the building, an light present. Once I pass through, the pulley bumps, and it’s like I’m going faster than before, hurtling towards the street.

            Everything becomes defined and magnified in size as I hurtle towards the ground, the tiny people becoming more distinguishable by the minute. The ground beneath me grows bigger and bigger.

            When I hang twenty feet above the ground, I reach behind me and undo the straps holding me in. I wiggle myself out and fall into an net made from bone and skin.

            Once I’m set on the ground, I feel like I have experienced something powerful and I’m high from the recent rush of adrenaline that I am dimly aware of someone wrapping their arm around my waist.

            “Nope. She didn’t pour her blood in the wrong bowl,” I hear Eric say. “Anyone with the emotional capacity for bravery should also carry the physical capacity.”

            Someone hands me the flask and I take a sip from it. I should have Christina scale a building next.

 

            By the time everyone has completed their dare, all of us go back to the Dauntless compound at three in the morning; drunk from drinking scotch from a flask. I stagger at times, trying to keep my balance, though not enough that I’m tumbling over.

            When I’m about to go to the elevator, someone picks me up and I giggle like an idiot. “Come on, silly girl,” says Eric. “You’re coming with me.”

            Alcohol has varying effects, depending on the body weight and the amount in your system. Since I’m 5’8 and he’s 6’1, I’m without a doubt more intoxicated then he is.

            We go up a few floors and I feel the door open behind me, as I continue to giggle stupidly. When he sets me down, I grab his black shirt and touch my lips to his. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him.

            His lips leave mine and he leaves a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down the side of my neck. I close my eyes, clenching the collar of his vest. His lips pull away from me and I look at him.

            “Now, that’s enough for tonight,” he tells me. Perhaps it isn’t such a good idea to make out while drunk.

            I nod before staggering to the bedroom.

 

            The next morning, I wake with a head ache, my mouth dry, and feeling like the contents of my stomach might burst. Oh, my head.

            I lift my head up to see that I’m not in my own apartment, but in Eric’s. I’m wearing a long white shirt, though my clothes are in a neat pile on the dresser in front of me. I must have changed into it last night. I pull back the blankets and leave the room for the bathroom that’s nearby.

            I take a drink of water before deciding to shower. I’ll have to make do with what he has, even if it means wearing masculine body wash. I’ll just be glad to be clean. I let the warm water run down my body and carefully lather myself.

            Since I can’t wear the same clothes as last night, I rummage through his dresser for something to wear. Knowing that I can’t be choosy, I choose a pair of sweatpants and a black sweater that goes past my hands, though I put my black tank top under it.

            This might become a habit: leaving each other’s clothing in the other’s apartment.

 

            I go to the clothing place, intent on buying just a new pair of pants and shirt so I could replace the sweater and sweatpants with those before going to the conference room at three. I roll my sleeves up and rummage through the first rack I see.

            I place my hand on an hanger and pull out an black tank top with red panels on the sides.

            “You came back late,” I hear Tobias say, causing me to jump. The situation wouldn’t be awkward if he wasn’t wearing the same exact sweater that I am currently wearing.

            “It’s not like you didn’t play Dare,” I say. “Did you?”

            He lifts an shoulder. “Once. During my initiation.”

            “Still, I couldn’t see why you would worry about it,” I say, approaching the second rack to find an pair of pants.

            “But you didn’t go back to your apartment last night.” I see that he’s looking at my clothes. Men’s’ and women’s’ clothes differ by style and obviously, this is a man’s sweater. I never have seen any women and girls wear this.

            I look at him in the eye. “I had to wear something and I couldn’t just walk out wearing the clothes I wore the day before.”

            “That wasn’t what I was asking. Dare involves passing around –” he starts.

            “An flask of scotch, I got it,” I say irritably. “Are you insinuating that Eric violated me while the both of us were intoxicated, me more so then him? Where’s the logic to that?”

            Tobias pauses before clearing his throat. “It appears as if you have a knack for making unwise decisions.”

            “You think that was unwise of me to participate in an game where alcohol was involved?” I demand, clenching my fist.

            Tobias steps back before shaking his head. “No. Just forget it, okay!” He darts away, not bothering to apologize to an Dauntless member he just bumped into. Seething from the recent argument, I yanked an pair of pants from the rack before heading straight to the fitting rooms to try these clothes on.

 

            “I saw you and Four walk into the clothing place fifty seconds apart, only to see Four walk out like he might punch something. Did you guys get into a fight?”

            Christina and I are sitting at our usual table at lunch. The others are not here yet; Uriah and Zeke are still at the food line, with a middle aged woman I can only assume is their mother.

            I shrug. “Something about last night. He insinuated that Eric violated me last night while I was drunk. He was drunk too, so I didn’t see the logic in that.”

            “What is his problem anyway?” asks Christina. “Ever since the Welcoming Banquet, he was…I don’t know…”

            “Apprehensive and uncomfortable when I am with Eric?” I deduce.

            “Well, yeah,” says Christina as Will sits down.

            “He even left the room right when you made your relationship with Eric public,” says Will. “He looked like he was going to explode.”

            I remember seeing Tobias dart out of the dining hall amidst the cheering and fist-pounding after I kissed Eric, but I didn’t see his face. Why would he be upset over me kissing Eric?

            “Still, why would he be upset over you kissing Eric?” asks Christina.

            “The answer is obvious: he likes her too.” Jocelyn drops into an empty seat next to Will.

            “Why would he like me?” I ask incredulously.

            “Why else would he be upset over you kissing Eric?” she asks.

            “Well, those two never liked each other and he has always told me…” I pause, realizing that Jocelyn has an point. If Tobias is not happy about me being with Eric, let alone the fact that he left after he saw us kiss, he must have had feelings for me.

            I think back to initiation, wondering when that started. He wasn’t happy that Eric chosen me to be on his capture the flag team, plus his constant obligation to protect me even when it wasn’t apparent that I wasn’t in any sort of danger. He must have had these feelings since the beginning of initiation.

            I feel an hand touch my shoulder and I jump, only to see that it was Eric.

            “Oh, why thank you, Eric,” says Christina. I must have blanked out while I processed everything.

            “I’m sorry,” I say as he sits beside me. “I just blanked out for an few minutes. Yeah, maybe he does like me.”

            “That would be too convenient,” Eric scoffs. “It’s too convenient considering that they both come from the same faction.”

            “Oh, you’re saying…” says Christina, like an light bulb just lit up in her brain.

            “Would I lie?” Eric smirks. “Though he’s become tough as nails, in retrospect, he’s still a Stiff.”

            Good thing Tobias is not here, or else Eric would be flung across the table by Tobias only to be restrained.

 

            At my apartment, I quickly switch out of Eric’s sweater and sweatpants and put on the clothing I brought, zipping my jacket halfway before I enter the conference room at three. I and two of the other candidates are there first, though the last two show up.

            Once everyone is in the room, Eric speaks. “Today, you share your thoughts on how to make this faction better, how we can improve and prove ourselves to be superior to the other factions. Max will be meeting with you according to your age groups, first with the oldest. The rest of you, mull over what you will say.”

            Eric leaves with the oldest candidate while I sit with the other three. I think about ways to improve Dauntless. I could remove the fighting until one is left unconscious, since that is problematic. They used to concede in fights, according to Tobias.

            However, it seems like it was intended to bring reality into initiation, and in a real world situation, _real_ fights wouldn’t end with one conceding. I’ll leave that alone.

            What I could change is the way the cutting system works, not just cut initiates who don’t do well in initiation, but also those who harm the life of another initiate after _one_ incident, speculated or not. Eric intended that Dauntless members have be both brave and emotionally, so, I’ll add cuts to stage two as well.

            Three cuts for stage one and two cuts for stage two and the rest for stage three. Sounds fair enough. Also, if one drops out voluntarily, we’ll still cut those who were supposed to get cut. As for the stage one cuts, as ludicrous as they might be, I understand why it’s in place. The Dauntless are supposed to be our protectors. If something terrible were to happen, we need people physically capable to combat it. Not everyone is cut out to be Dauntless.

            “Tris,” I hear Eric say.

            I look up and see that I’m the only one in the room. Time passes while one is thinking. I lift myself from the chair and follow him out of the conference room and follow him to Max’s office, which I recognize from the footage yesterday at the control room.

            Eric takes one of the two chairs that sit in front of the desk and props it against the wall before sitting down. What I do remember is that Jeanine pulled the strings to make sure that Eric became Dauntless leader and that Jeanine is insistent on me becoming an Dauntless leader. That’s why Jeanine is having Eric oversee the selection process: so Max can appoint the candidate that she wants to be Dauntless leader.

            “So,” says Max, bringing me out of my thoughts. I sit in the chair in front of his desk and fold my hands on my lap. Somehow, it’s hard to place Max sitting behind an desk surrounded by papers.

            “So, Tris, do you have any ideas on how to make this faction better?” asks Max.

            “Yes, and I think we should make some changes during initiation,” I reply.

            “We’re interested to hear them.”

            “People in the other four factions look up to us,” I start. “They admire that we keep fear under control, that we are stronger than they are, physically, emotionally, and mentally. The system that you have is excellent, however, unfortunately it can also attract the wrong people, people that think that being strong equates with stepping on the weak. That being brave means liquidating others to get a specific rank in fear of losing initiation. So, I propose a change to the cutting system.”

            “What changes should we expect?” asks Eric, who looks eager.

            “If an initiate attempts to kill another initiate or attacking another initiate, they will be expelled after the first offense, no questions asked,” I answer. “If Dauntless wants to have a superior reputation, keeping initiates who pose a threat to the other initiates’ safety will mar that. Also, if one initiate voluntarily drops out after an incident, we should still cut those who we were going to cut.”

            I expect Max to say that it was wishful thinking; that things like that happen in initiation. However, he looks like something what I said impressed him. Though, he unwillingly looks at Eric and says, “Any thoughts on this?”

            Eric leans forward and laces his fingers together. “Sounds like it will go with the current system very well, though I think there is more to what she intends for the cutting system.”

            “Yes,” I answer. “Three cuts to stage one, two for stage two, and the rest for stage three, combined with what I just proposed.”

            Max chuckles a little. “Wouldn’t that ask for too much?”

            “It wouldn’t be if Eric intends for members to be brave both emotionally and physically,” I say. “It’s only raising the bar an little more than before.”

            “Not too bad,” says Eric. “It coordinates well with the current system and isn’t too conceptual like others. At least she’s not naïve enough to turn Dauntless into Amity.”

            Something about the way he says the last sentence is like he said it before.

            “Well,” says Max, turning back to me. “Is there anything else?”

            I shake my head ‘no’. Hopefully what I want isn’t so small that I’m considered unqualified for Dauntless leadership.

 

            With Christina, Will, and Uriah working their shifts, I decide to make dinner, a meal for two considering that Eric might stop by. Only ten minutes until he leaves his office or whatever his job requires.

            Then, I hear someone knocking on the door. It couldn’t be him, already, could it? I turn down the burner before approaching the front door. Looking through the peephole, I see that it’s Tobias. I sigh as I unbolt the door and open it.

            “Should you be at the control room working?” I ask him.

            “I just got done,” he says. “Thing is, I have to tell you something.”

            I move to the side so he can enter and when he does, it’s like he is surveying his surroundings before he looks at me. “I was hoping you would change the system that Eric imposed, that you would make initiation less competitive like it is now.”

            “What…” I say before I piece it together. He was watching the feed in the control room. He could have gotten in trouble for that. “Well, there was nothing that needed to be changed. All it needed was some polishing.”

            “ _Some_ polishing?” Tobias demands, becoming angry. “You have no idea how Eric made things much worse than before! If it weren’t for him, Peter wouldn’t have tried to kill you! He’d wound up you and your fellow initiates so tight, that it was bound to happen!”

            “Tobias, Eric didn’t make Peter recruit Drew and Al to help kill me,” I point out, resting my hands on my hips. “As far as I know, Eric didn’t give Peter the butter knife to attack Edward. Peter did those terrible things out of his own free will.”

            “As for the attack on Edward, I heard rumors that he provoked the attack,” says Tobias. “That Peter was merely acting out of self-defense.”

            “Good grief, Tobias!” I exclaim. “That’s the same bull that Peter told Eric! Peter said the same thing about me: that I accosted him! Peter was jealous! He attacked me too! Did you forget that?”

            “Of course I did not forget, but that wouldn’t have happened if Eric didn’t change the system!” he shouts, pounding his fist on the countertop.

            “Did similar things like that happen during last year’s initiation?” I demand.

            Tobias pauses before answering, “No, however –”   

            “Then it’s not Eric’s fault that Peter tried to liquidate Edward and I,” I point out. “It’s not his fault that Peter decided to get rid of those that outranked him.”

            “Tris, please try to understand,” Tobias pleads, his anger gone.

            “Understand what? Why you hate Eric to the point that you blame him for everything?” I demand. “Not everything is his fault and when something bad happens –”

            “He was responsible for Amar’s death,” says Tobias. “You weren’t there when it happened, Tris. Five days before his death, Eric gave him this look like he knew something about him, and you probably didn’t forget the fact that Eric was planted here specifically to hunt down Divergents.”

            I remember that, and I remember Tori’s story about her brother and how the Dauntless leaders might target me if I posed an threat. If this is true, then this Amar was probably a Divergent, though Tobias and Eric hate each other. Hate each other enough that it’s probably an circumstantial accusation.

            “A look? You know that a ‘look’ can mean anything,” I point out. “Out of all the five Dauntless leaders, you decide to point the finger at Eric when it could have easily been Max, Veronica, and the other two.”

            “Tris, please try to listen to me,” he says. “I wouldn’t tell you if I thought it wasn’t true.”

            I approach the front door and say, “If you want to blame Eric for things that are not his fault or if you want to point the finger at him because there is no one else to blame, fine, but don’t come to me about it!” Then I open the door and point outside, “Get out, Four! You’re just wasting my time!”

            “Is something a matter?” I hear Eric ask.

            I turn to see Eric standing outside my apartment door, his hands in the pockets of his vest. He and Tobias both scowl at each other, and it feels like I’m back in the training room during stage one of initiation.

            Tobias shakes his head and walks out before Eric walks in. “Did he do something to you?” he asks me as I returned to the kitchen to resume making dinner.

            “Nothing! Nothing bad!” I exclaim as I work on the chicken.

            “You don’t sound okay,” he notes.

            I slam down the salt and turn to face him. “Tobias blames you for what Peter did to me! To Edward! He also blames you for the death of your past initiate instructor!”

            “Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” says Eric as I run my hand through my hair. “He doesn’t make that public often, because he knows that people won’t believe him.”

            “I don’t, and it should be worth mentioning that he insinuated that you violated me while we were both drunk last night,” I tell him.

            “As always, he’s an complete idiot,” Eric replies. “You know I would never violate you, you know that right?”

            “Yes, especially if you didn’t want to the kissing to progress further while we were both drunk,” I say.

            “You’re not as naïve as he thinks.” He places my face in his hands and kisses me lightly on the lips. I gently put my hands around his forearms, looking up at him. “Now, what did you make for dinner?”

            “Chicken breast and vegetables.” He lets his hands drop so I could return to the task at hand. “I know it might be considered Stiff food, though I am putting salt and pepper on the chicken, so that it doesn’t taste like cardboard.”

            “I have nothing against that,” he says, smirking. “I don’t understand why your former faction refuses to make their food flavorful.”

            “Butter and seasoning is considered extravagant,” I tell him. "They only use butter for cooking purposes."

            “That faction is over the top in terms of what’s selfish and what’s not,” he says. “Butter is not extravagant as what the Abnegation think it is.”

 

 


	20. Chapter Twenty

That night, the two of us sleep in my bed, my back pressed against the front of his torso, his arm wrapped around my abdomen; his head nearly touching my own.

            It’s comforting to feel his weight against mine.

            As I begin to drift to sleep, I think about what Tobias recently said: _“He was responsible for Amar’s death. You weren’t there when it happened, Tris. Five days before his death, Eric gave him this look like he knew something about him, and you probably didn’t forget the fact that Eric was planted here specifically to hunt down Divergents.”_

While it’s true that Jeanine planted Eric specifically to hunt down Divergents in Dauntless, the fact remains: Eric had the chance to hand me over right when he discovered my Divergence, but he deleted the incriminating footage instead. Knowing Tobias, he’d say that Eric is biding his time and waiting for the right moment.

            I don’t think it’s true.

            Maybe Eric discovered Amar’s Divergence, but didn’t say anything and someone else figured it out and told one of the other four leaders. That’s another possible scenario that isn’t far-fetched coming to think of it.

            It’s ironic that I’m thinking about this with him sleeping behind me, but what’s more ironic is that I hated him when I first saw him, not knowing that there would be an turn of events that lead to this.

            Perhaps it’s better to form your own opinions after you meet someone.

 

* * *

 

            I wake up to the sound of the water running from the bathroom. He’s probably taking a shower. I sit up and stretch before I leave the bed. The clock says seven thirty in the morning, which means that he’s usually an early riser like I am.

            I rub my hand through my hair as I leave the bedroom and go into the bathroom. At first, I watch from the doorway as he showers, the way the water runs down his body as he lathers his body with soap. I have never seen a man without clothes on, and if this were Abnegation, it would be met with hushed criticism.

            Though given the ‘The Talk’ by my mother at the age of twelve, I was ignorant of how the male anatomy was different then the female anatomy, though I would notice bulges from the trousers of teenage boys at school and I was curious why this was. Caleb caught me looking at an book titled _Reproductive Health_ when we were both finishing Mid-Levels but fortunately, he kept that quiet. Though I’ve only seen an illustration of it, it’s completely different to actually see it.

            If I were actually a Abnegation girl, I would shy away from the sight of him without clothes but I don’t. I watch him for a minute before I go back to the bedroom to retrieve some clothes. I open my dresser and sift through the black fabric.

            I pull out the sheer-sleeved leather top that I brought during initiation after I got my Dauntless tattoo and an pair of black pants. I change into those before going back into the bathroom, where Eric has finished showering and is getting dressed.

            I face the mirror and tie my hair in a ponytail before picking up the tube of eyeliner, watching as he shrugs on his undershirt.

            “Morning,” I say, unscrewing the cap.

            “Good morning as well,” he replies, shrugging on his black shirt. “I brought your pants and jacket back from my apartment.”

            Oh, right. I left some of my clothes over there the morning after we played Dare. I should probably deposit them in the public laundry hamper with my apartment number marked on them. I concentrate as I apply eyeliner, as to make sure that it doesn’t get in my eyes.

            “You’ll get your notice if you’ve been selected,” he says. “It will only take two days minimum at least.”

            “But there is no guarantee that I’ll get it.” I don’t want him to know what I saw in Max’s office. “There were what, how many candidates? Ten?”

            “The chances of you getting selected are higher than most of them,” he says, fitting his hand around the curve of my waist. “You have a pretty excellent idea how things are done.”

            “Only that I have only been here for an month,” I point out. “It’s not like I was here for two years like you.”

            I screw the cap back on before setting down the eyeliner before looking at him in the mirror. I don’t look odd compared to him. Had it been three months ago, I would have found his microdermals and gauge plugs rather odd.

            “I don’t understand the Abnegation sometimes, mainly because I don’t view things the way they do,” he says. “There is nothing wrong with ambition, though that was pretty _ambitious_ of you to pass initiation.”

            Ambition is an strong desire to achieve something, through determination and hard work. In Abnegation, ambition is considered one of the things that lead men to greed and darkness, though I don’t know if I believe that anymore. Especially since I was determined to pass initiation.

            “Yeah, though it might take me a while to distance myself from the Abnegation habit,” I say.

            “It’s only natural for transfers,” he replies. “You would think that I wouldn’t be such a bookworm after two years in Dauntless, but old habits die hard.”

            “Funny, because I couldn’t place you with a book when I first met you,” I admit to him, smiling.

            “That is why it takes time to know someone,” he says. Eric turns me around and pins my pelvis against the sink with his own, his face so close that our noses touch.

            “Be glad we’re not in Abnegation or else we would be lectured on the importance of chastity,” I remind him.

            “Trust me, I’m perfectly content that I wasn’t Abnegation.” He presses his lips to mine and I wrap my hand against the back of his neck. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I feel the blood rushing to the surface of my skin.

            His hand moves to my head, where he twines his fingers into my hair. I place both hands on his shoulders, pulling myself closer so that my torso meets his. By the time our lips pull away, my breathing is ragged.

            His eyes lock mine, as he runs his hand down my neck.

            “You’re rather difficult, you know that?” His lips curl into an amused smirk. “Let’s get some breakfast at the dining hall.”

 

* * *

 

            The two of us have just entered the lobby of the Pire when I spot Tobias from a distance, standing in front of that door of the fear landscape room. Isn’t he past initiation?

            “What is Four doing?” I ask Eric.

            Eric glances at Tobias’s turned back and snorts. “Dauntless members have the liberty to travel through their fear landscape after initiation, though most of them don’t, which is understandable. I would rather fall from an one hundred story building then go through my fear landscape several times each week, like he does. That is masochism, plain and simple.”

            I watch as Tobias takes an small black box out of his pocket and removes the lid. He takes out an needle and syringe that is full of the Dauntless fear serum. “Who would go back into their fear landscape again?” I ask out loud. “Just going through it once is enough for me.”

            “You’re luckier than I was,” Eric replies. “I here went through it twice. Going through it an third time would render me insane.”

            To be honest, I would become mad as well if I entered my fear landscape again. I shudder as I see Tobias open the door and disappear behind it before Eric and I move on to the stairwell that leads to the Pit.

            The roar of the chasm could be heard as one goes down the staircase to the Pit. Since it’s practically seven in the morning, there are not too many people in the Pit, though one can smell the aroma of breakfast wafting into the cavern.

            “Let me guess: how early do you like to have breakfast in the dining hall?” I ask him.

            “The muffins don’t tend to be picked over at this time of morning,” he replies, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “I’m not too big on sweets, though I prefer a selection to choose from. I particularly favor blueberry muffins.”

            “Perhaps you can be so kind to split one with me,” I tell him.

            “Just don’t get too greedy,” he quips. “I’m sure that there is something in –”

            “Stop that!” I exclaim, trying to elbow him in the ribs, though I feel laughter creeping up.

            “Oh, you’re in trouble now, Stiff.” He hoists me over his shoulder and I laugh even harder. “You’re in serious trouble now.”

            He runs across the Pit to the dining hall and I hold my arms out in front of me, laughing like an maniac. Never, have I felt this sort of content and I embrace it.

 

* * *

 

            The next two days have passed smoothly. One thing I am content with is that I haven’t seen Peter that much since initiation ended, though I heard from Will that he also works with technical support as well, learning about how to specialize with computers. I have asked Will if Peter said anything about me, and I wish I hadn’t.

            “Yeah, he says some things to some of the other members of technical support,” said Will during lunch two days ago. “How you slithered your way up to the top by sleeping with Eric. I don’t believe him. Most of them don’t, though there are two that agree with him. That there is no a way that someone from Abnegation can possibly pass initiation without sleeping their way up.”

            Jocelyn said that Peter was most likely upset because his lackeys didn’t make it and is trying to gain new ones by telling tales about me. Fortunately, it hasn’t been successful, I heard.

            Yesterday, Lynn came back from an meeting in Amity, obviously fuming and irritable that I didn’t talk too much, though I heard her vent to Shauna and Hector during lunch.

            “This Banjo-Strumming Softy insisted on injecting peace serum in me,” she said. “Because I was ‘considered likely to lose my temper’. Well, I thought they respected that request and I should have seen it coming when they offered me a slice of bread. No wonder why the Amity are cheerful to the point of insanity. They eat too much of that bread.”

            This morning, I decide to join Christina, Uriah, and Will for breakfast at the dining hall. Most likely, I’m going to spend my day at the training room or in Eric’s apartment curled up with an book until six PM. That is one of the downsides of waiting to see if I was even selected for leader-in-training.

            I stand in the food line two people from Tobias when I see Max striding to the food line, holding an envelope. Tobias sees him and mutters something under his breath, muttering something, in which “Not again” and “I’m not going to accept” are distinguishable.

            However, instead of crossing Tobias, Max approaches me instead. He holds out the envelope. “This is the result of the leadership selection.”

            I take the envelope from his hand. “Thanks.”

            Max smiles and nods before walking off. Though I shouldn’t open it with people around, my curiosity gets the best of me, and I rip the envelope open.

            “I thought Max was going to ask if I thought of joining the Dauntless leadership,” I hear Tobias say, who’s now standing behind me. “He has been doing that for two years.”

            I take out an piece of paper from the envelope and unfold it:

**_Out of ten candidates, you have been selected for Dauntless leader-in-training. Congratulations on your success. Your training begins tomorrow morning. Meet Jackie Dunbar, your soon-to-be predecessor with the rest of the Dauntless leadership at nine in the morning._ **

            It happened then. I was selected to be leader-in-training. I am not surprised if it was because Jeanine pulled the strings. If it’s true, then I don’t really earn it, even if I fit all Dauntless criteria.

            I put the paper back in its envelope and scrunch it in my pocket.

            “Oh, so you did get it,” says Tobias.

            I turn to look at him. “And I didn’t get my hopes up.” I turn away. I’m still angry at him for what happened a few days ago.

            Fortunately, he doesn’t say anything.

            After going through the food line, I join Christina, Will, and Uriah at our usual table.

            “Why the long face, Tris?” asks Uriah when I drop into an seat across from him.

            I pick up my toast. “I have been selected to be Dauntless leader-in-training.”

            “That’s nothing to be sad about,” says Christina. “I thought that it would make you happy that you passed the selection process.”

            “I know,” I acknowledge, putting blueberry jam on my toast. “I guess that it’s hard to break out of the Abnegation habit.”

            “Hopefully they allow you to boot Peter out of Dauntless once you became official,” says Christina. “It’s a pain to see him still here.”

           

* * *

 

            When I step into the tattoo parlor later that morning, I see that only Tori and that Dauntless man – who I assume is Bud – are present. The work and school day has started, so no one is getting tattoos at the moment.

            I look at the transparent sketches on the wall to my left. I don’t want to ink myself too much, but another tattoo will not probably hurt. I take an couple of sketches on the wall and glance at them.

            The first one is a sketch of vines that would look good inked on someone’s ankle and the second is a block tattoo that partly resembles a maze. Like the tattoos on Eric’s forearms.

            While the former is a good choice, I’m leaning more towards the latter. Probably because in my subconscious, I want to match with Eric somewhat, though I’ll have it only on one forearm, not two.

            How can it hurt?

 

* * *

 

            My fingers touch the bandage on my right forearm that covers my new tattoo. This took over two hours to apply, due to this intricate design. After a few hours, I can remove this bandage.

            I remove my fingers from the bandage and continue my way towards the food line for lunch. Unfortunately, I see that Peter is approaching that same area, though I keep walking, trying to ignore him.

            A rough hand grabs my right wrist and I look to see that it’s Peter.

            “So, trying to mutilate and ink yourself to look Dauntless, Stiff?” he asks, looking at my bandage. “Then again, I thought that Stiffs couldn’t handle pain.”

            I rip myself from his grip and say, “I can handle pain rather well, thanks. Besides, I’m not a Stiff anymore. I’m going to be one of your leaders, and if you mess with me again, you will not like what happens to you.”

            “Like that’s going to scare me,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. “The only reason why you ranked first is because you fu –”

            My fist connects with his jaw and he stumbles backward into the end of a table. Everyone sitting there just stands up and backs away.

            “You seem to have forgotten that I beat you,” I tell him. “Besides, you didn’t jump into the net first, I did. Stop acting like you did.”

            I dart to the food line, feeling the angry blush in my cheeks. As I stand at the end of the line, Eric joins me.

            “Is everything alright?” he asks.

            “It was until that coward came along,” I spit out, turning to face him. “When is he going to learn that I really earned my rank? That I didn’t slither my way up?”

            “As narrow-minded as he is, I doubt it,” says Eric, lifting a shoulder. “Once you get food in your system, you’ll feel better.”

            I pick up my tray. “I don’t know if food is going to help anything.”

            “Did you just get a new tattoo?” He eyes my bandage forearm.

            “Too much, you reckon?” I ask.

            “Just don’t keep getting tattoos until you’re more ink then skin,” he says. “Let me get a peek.”

            He gently lifts the bandage and sees where the tattoo starts. He smirks broadly with satisfaction. “Interesting. I admire your nerve,” he says. “They say that _imitation is a form of flattery_ , and this is one of them.”

            I look over his shoulder to see Tobias standing just a few feet behind him. He looks at the exposed skin showing one end of the tattoo with wide eyes before casting me a look of disgust before walking to the other part of the room.

            Why doesn’t Tobias realize that once I have landed somewhere, I’m never going to take off again?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if Tobias is coming across as a douche. I don’t hate him; I love him to bits as well. However, if Tris ended up with Eric instead and the war was a year later, he would be an jerk about it at first, letting his hatred and prejudice of Eric blind him from acknowledging Tris’s content in the relationship. He’ll come around eventually.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

“If you are leader-in-training, then it was idiotic of Peter to provoke you like that during lunch,” says Lynn during dinner that night. “Then again, Dauntless women are not seen as strong as the men anyway.”

            “She handed his ass to him during the last day of stage one,” says Will. “You should have been there. It was epic.”

            “So much about bragging about being the first ranking initiates of the transfers,” Lynn grumbles.

            “You are aware that he merely ranked first after stage one because he stabbed the eye out of another initiate,” Eric points out.

            “I am completely aware of that.” Lynn stabs her ravioli with her fork. “There was this bullshit story about that initiate provoking the attack. Talk about victim blaming.”

            “Peter fed me the same bull when I asked him if he had something to do with it,” says Eric in reply. “Seems like the little shit told his lackeys, who passed it on to anyone who would listen. Fortunately, he didn’t spread that bull about Tris.”

            “Probably because you beat him up when you caught him,” I tell Eric.

            “From what I got, I assumed that Peter was your favorite initiate at first,” says Christina.

            “I don’t favor lousy cowards,” Eric replies, looking perturbed. “Just by his attitude, I knew that I wouldn’t like him.”

            “But you picked him for your capture the flag team,” Christina points out.

            “That doesn’t mean that I liked him,” Eric argues. “Too cocky for my liking.”

            “Still, I don’t understand why you decided to get the tattoo as him,” says Lynn, changing the subject. She gestures to one of my forearms. “You two nearly match.”

            With the bandage off, my right arm and his left arm look like joined pieces of an puzzle when touching each other. It’s like the image expanded itself.

            “Nearly,” I repeat, picking up my fork.

            “If you want to match, why won’t you get microdermals?” suggests Uriah, laughing.

            “No, I’m not going that far,” I reply. “That was enough.”

            Mere seconds later, we are joined by Zeke, Shauna, and Tobias. Tobias doesn’t acknowledge me as he sits down. I don’t acknowledge him either.

            “What took you guys so long?” asks Uriah.

            “We had to drag this pansycake out of the training room,” says Zeke, rolling his eyes. Tobias glares at him.

            “Four being a pansycake?”Uriah shakes his head. “That’s new.”

            “That shouldn’t surprise me,” says Eric smirking. “It’s nothing new, considering that he’s actually an Sti –”

            Before anyone could think ahead of time, Tobias jumps from his seat and grabs the front of Eric’s shirt with his fists.

            “Tobias!” I shout, jumping from my seat and running to where Tobias is, just so I could loosen his grip. “Tobias, unhand him!”

            Tobias ignores me. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t punch your teeth out,” he says to Eric with gritted teeth.

            Eric stares at him defiantly. “We know who’s in charge, Four. Besides, they already know. It’s not like you can keep your actual name a secret.”

            Tobias pulls back his fist, but I pull his arm back, preventing him from inflicting the blow. “No! Don’t!”

            Sean and another Dauntless man run from the food line and they both grab Tobias: Sean grabbing his shoulder and the other grabbing an hold of the arm that’s holding Eric. The three of us pull on Tobias before he loosens his grip.

            I release my hand, and glare back and forth at the two of them. “You two need to stop acting like Lower Levels children! You’re both adult men! Act like it!”

            I stomp away, not caring if my dinner is half-eaten. I just exit the dining hall, not bothering to apologize to Peter after I smashed my shoulder into his. Maybe Uriah or Christina would eat the food that I didn’t touch.

 

* * *

 

            I watch as the punching bag sways from the force of my punches. For the past thirty minutes, I take out my anger: at the recent situation that occurred in the dining hall and at Peter. It’s easier to imagine that I’m beating up Peter to a bloody pulp. That he is sprawled on the floor as I land punches and kicks.

            As I pull my fist back again, the door to the training room opens causing me to turn. It’s Eric, without a doubt.

            “Was it really necessary back there?” I demand, crossing my arms. “You were lucky that I was there to prevent Four from punching your teeth out.”

            “I don’t have to like him,” Eric retorts, taking a few steps forward. “As I said, this is nothing new.”

            “But that doesn’t make it right!” I point out, the blood rushing to the surface of my face.

            “You know, you are sexier when you’re angry,” he says with his signature smirk on his face, getting closer to me.

            “Really? I never noticed,” I retorted, pressing my back into the punching bag. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.

            “Yes,” he replies and now he’s close to me that our noses practically touch. “That angry blush goes with your hair pretty well.”

            One part of me wants to punch him in the face for being an insufferable person, though the other part wants to kiss him, as a way to take the rest of the edge off. I turn towards the punching bag but at the last second, I lunge at him, locking my fingers around the back of his neck before kissing him hard.

            He presses my body with his, my back touching the punching bag. His hands twine into my hair, twisting the strands until they go around his hand. His body is hot against mine and one of his hands reaches down to the hem of my shirt and begins lifting the fabric from my skin.

            “No,” I hiss, grabbing his wrist. “Not here. Not now.”

            It’s too risky to engage in such an activity here, and it’s too soon to have it progress to sex after we been together for only a month. I don’t want to go fast.

            He pulls away from me, but he doesn’t look disappointed that I prevented the making out from going further. “Yeah, it would be stupid to continue here.”

            “Not to mention too soon,” I point out. “We have been together for barely a month.”

            “If you don’t want to have sex yet, I understand,” he says. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

            Hearing that fills me with relief, as I don’t want to be pressured into going too far in an relationship.

            “Somehow, people will not place you doing that,” I say, “that you are willing to respect my wishes.”

            “Then others do not know me as well as you do,” he says.

 

* * *

 

            I brought my care materials and a change of clothes to Eric’s apartment, locking my own apartment for the night. If this keeps up, I might as well move in with him.

            As I shower, I hear him moving around the apartment; probably adjusting it before he goes to bed. He wouldn’t be such an hard person to live with, since I prefer keeping things tidy as well. However, it might be too soon to think about living with him.

            I turn the shower head off before stepping out of the shower, drying myself before throwing on an pair of his sweatpants and one of his old shirts. He has no objections over me wearing his clothes to bed. I leave the bathroom and walk into the dark living/kitchen area, though the overhead light above his stove is still on.

            Technically, everyone in all the factions are supposed to turn off all their lights in their dwellings to conserve energy, though he probably keeps it on at night for an reason. Since he’s an Dauntless leader, he probably doesn’t want to bump into something if alerted in the middle of the night in case of an emergency. I can easily forgive that reason.

            I go over to one of the bookshelves and pull out _History of the Ancient World_ before walking to his bedroom, where I see him already occupying one side of the bed, reading an book. Though he owns books, I never saw him read one until now, and it’s weird seeing him with an open book in his hands.

            Old habits die hard and I guess that’s one of the Erudite habits that he retained. I slip under the covers on the other side of the bed and prop myself against the pillow to sit up as I open my book.

            “Usually its one person reads before a couple goes to bed,” he notes.

            “Well, I’m not Abnegation enough to do nothing before going to bed,” I tell him before opening the book. I haven’t marked my place, but I don’t mind rereading the first couple of chapters.

            I allow myself to get absorbed with what I’m reading at first, though something nags at me; something that I haven’t asked Eric about since the end of initiation; something that I should have asked him a long time ago.

            “Eric, why does Four think you have something to do with Amar’s death?” I ask.

            He closes his book shut and sets it on his lap before looking at me with an pensive expression. “There is something that you need to understand, Tris. Sometimes, things happen that cannot be explained. Also, it’s never smart to take the word of someone who hates their guts.”

            I nod. “Which is why Four thinks it was you.”

            “While Amar had the tendency for Dauntless recklessness, he was very smart,” Eric says. “Smart enough that he could have passed Erudite initiation if he chose that faction. One thing about Divergents is that their minds work very fast. They tend to keep up with things that others wouldn’t usually do, like with that computer programming tutorial. I heard that you were the second to finish.”

            “Well, Lauren was fast when explaining the basics, but I was able to keep up with her,” I say.

            “I discovered that Amar was Divergent during my initiation,” Eric replies. “It wasn’t intentional on my part. I was heading back to the dormitory when I thought I heard Amar and Four talking. I didn’t pay any mind to what they were saying until I heard Amar say ‘I was like you. I could change the simulations. I just thought I was the only one’.”

            “What did you do?” I ask.

            “I froze in place, just wishing that no one else was around,” he replies. “This was before Jeanine gave me that wretched assignment, though I went to Max, saying that there might be a glitch in the system causing people to be simulation aware. I thought he was going to get the technical support. I didn’t think he would summon Jeanine to Dauntless.”

            “What happened to Amar?” I ask.

            “Jeanine viewed their simulations and ruled them out as flukes. Keep in mind that Erudite created the fear simulations for the Dauntless and the software has to be updated every four years, because there will be glitches and program errors. However, after I passed the selection process for leader-in-training, Jeanine told me to keep an eye on Amar, for she thought he showed signs of Divergence in the behavioral area. I told her I would, but that wasn’t entirely the truth. Then five days before his death last year, he exhibited some knowledge about psychology when talking about the fear landscapes with Four. The average Dauntless attention span isn’t much, though I suspected that he retained what he learned at Upper Levels, and retaining information like that is an Erudite trait.”

            With a chill, I understand what he is saying. I would retain information I learned for an particular school subject and in Biology an few years ago, my desk partner, an Erudite girl, commented that for an Stiff, I seemed to retain a lot of information.

            “Are you actually Abnegation, because I don’t know too many Stiffs who retain information,” she commented one day.

            “So, I gave him that ‘incriminating look’, though I didn’t say anything nor did I tell Max,” says Eric. “Then, five days later, they found his body by the train tracks.”

            “Did someone else tip off the leaders?” I ask.

            “Though that might be a stretch, I have my mind on Shauna and Lynn’s mother,” says Eric. “She was within earshot of the conversation as well, and she’s the type of person who would blow the whistle to the Dauntless leaders about it, since she’s narrow-minded enough to be afraid of something that she doesn’t understand.”

            “Why would you think that it was Shauna’s mother?” I ask him incredulously.

            “I overheard her talking with some of her friends about how Divergents have loyalty problems because of their aptitude for multiple factions and that what makes them dangerous.” Eric snorts, like that idea is malarkey to him. It is to me, too. “Anyway, I can’t vocalize it because I have nothing to back it up, unlike Four, who vocalizes his accusation sometimes.”

            I’m not going to tell Shauna and Lynn what Eric just told me, because I don’t know if they too believe that Divergents have loyalty problems. Especially if it’s just a circumstantial accusation. That is an Erudite trait: only voicing opinions if you have something credible to back it up with.

            “So, it wasn’t you,” I say. “You weren’t the one that killed Amar.”

            “Even with my ironclad alibi, Four thinks that I was the culprit,” says Eric. “He just wants me to be individual that did it. That’s all there is to it.”

            “I told him that it easily could have been the other four that killed him, but I’m not sure if Tobias listened,” I reply.

            “Four is very bullheaded,” says Eric. “Stubborn to where he believes his own intuition over others, even if it isn’t true.”

 

* * *

 

            The next morning, I eat a bowl of plain oatmeal for breakfast before going to the conference room by the leaders’ offices. Idly, I wonder what today will bring, what they will have me do to kick off these months of training to be an Dauntless leader.

            When I approach the conference room door, I just knock twice and mere seconds later, someone opens it. Stepping into the conference room, I examine the Dauntless leaders. As I know, there are five of them: two women and three men. I know Eric, Max, and Veronica, though I don’t know the names of the other two, though I have seen them during the final examinations. What I notice is that they have the same tattoo running up their necks. It’s probably an tattoo signifying their status within the faction.

            Just seeing them makes me small compared to them.

            “Hopefully you got your sleep,” says Max.

            “Don’t worry,” I reply. “I’m an heavy sleeper.”

            Three of the five chuckle at that and Max gestures to the other Dauntless leader beside him, an severe looking woman with short blue hair. “This is Jackie. You’ll be taking her place when your months of training are over.”

            I take an step forward. “Hello,” I say nervously.

            Instead of greeting me back, she sizes me up before dismissing me with an glance. I’m sure she preferred for an Dauntless-born or someone else to succeed her, not some girl that originated from Abnegation. Then again, Uriah said that Jackie was one of the three Dauntless leaders that voted to keep Peter in Dauntless.

            “Jackie, I’m sure you know who Tris is,” says Max.

            She turns to him. “You couldn’t find someone better to replace me?”

            I knew it, just by that dismissing glance she gave me.

            “She fits the criteria needed,” says Max. “She also has a good vision for this faction.”

            “Also, you’ll be surprised,” Eric adds. “You never want to underestimate the former Abnegation.”

            “Max, I think we should get the ball rolling,” says Veronica.

            “Yes, of course,” Max replies. “Why don’t we all sit down?”

            The five Dauntless leaders sit in an panel at one side of the table while I sit down in the chair across from them.

            Max is the one that starts talking. “Unlike most professions here, this has high expectations considering that this is an government position, which is why you’ll be taking an set of skills tests and accompanying us in meetings and patrols during the next seven months.” He looks at the other four leaders. “Who wants to explain it to her?”

            “I will, since being general is only going to lead to errors,” Eric answers.

Veronica puts her face in her hand and groans. Maxlooks at Eric like he might disagree but he gives him an stiff nod.

            Eric turns to me, his hands folded in front of him. “Sorry if I will sound like an Erudite for an few minutes, but since this is an leadership position, it doesn’t deserve to have an gross oversimplification.”

            “Go ahead,” I encourage.

            “The training you will go through for seven months is going to be very detailed, very strenuous and demanding,” Eric explains. “Unlike Dauntless initiation, which tests your strengths in the physical, emotional, and mental areas, this will help train you in the areas of diplomacy, inter-faction relationships, and also, skills on combat and computers aside from overlooking how things are performed in this faction.”

            This _is_ different from initiation, since this concerns with leadership skills.

            “The last three months of the year are very busy for all five factions,” says Eric. “Expect to accompany us on meetings and visits to another faction’s headquarters, predominately Erudite, since they provide the serums for the fear simulation program. These meetings will teach you about how inter-faction relations are, and you will be tested on the practices of the other factions.”

            Of all the other four factions, they will be most friendly with the Erudite, especially if Jeanine planted Eric specifically for hunting down Divergents.

            “Like stage one of initiation, there is some combat training, but it is brief and tests how well you hold yourself in an fight and how well you fight. You’ll be sparring with a private trainer to identify threats from an opponent, as well aim at virtual targets. This means that a Dauntless leader should excel at combat more than the other faction members.”

            I’m relieved for the three I earned from stage one or else I wouldn’t make it.

            “You will be educated on the main computer programs that I mentioned earlier, about how they function and the proper criteria to run them. You will go through tests concerning programming and other technical aspects. You will also learn about how to rotate feed, since an Dauntless leader will also monitor situations in this faction and other factions.”

            I’m glad that it’s him that is explaining this to me, since getting a general idea wouldn’t be enough to succeed.

            “During the seven months, while you will only be replacing one of us, you will be trained in the aforementioned areas by most if not all of us. Once the training commences, you will sign an document that you agree with the faction’s ideals. Well, was that too much for you?”

            “No,” I say. “I felt that this was nothing to be general about.”

            “Since I have finished explaining what she’ll be trained on, Veronica should tell her what she should explain today,” says Eric.

            He nods to her and she lifts her head up to look at me. “Today, you will pay a visit to the fence. An Dauntless leader will survey the patrols from time to time. Also, you might learn how to administrate memory serum to those on the outer limits in the patrols.”

            “Memory serum?” I ask.

            “Abnegation serum is what it is,” says Eric. “Resets your memory and you have to give them details about their life while they’re in some sort of haze, so you’ll forget what you saw. Usually the Amity inject it, but sometimes an Dauntless leader will. I have injected it twice and it’s quite scary to see them go under it.”

            “Why would the Abnegation have an serum that resets your memory to forget just one thing?” I ask incredulously. “I thought that the Abnegation didn’t have an serum.”

            “Sometimes, there are things outside Amity that are best left to be unknown,” said Max.

 

* * *

 

            Next to the conference room is what they call the _Temp Office_ , where I’ll be occupying during my training period until I have become official. It’s obvious that it’s for an leader-in-training, since the filing cabinets are absent and there is just one chair, that is behind the desk.

            On the desk is a packet that says **_Weekly Schedule_** on the top of it. I pick it up, and look at today’s schedule:

            **_10:00 AM – 12:00 PM: Fence patrol overview w/Veronica and Ross_**

**_12:30 PM – 1:30 PM: Lunch_ **

**_1:45 PM – 3:00 PM: File Management w/Jackie_ **

So, they are going to test me what I will learn today. File management is easy to guess. It’s probably to organize files within the compound. I turn the page to see tomorrow’s schedule.

            **_9:20 AM – 11:30 PM: Visit to Erudite HQ w/Max and Eric_**

**_11: 45 AM – 12:25 PM: Revising Memos_ **

**_12:30 PM – 1:30 PM: Lunch_ **

**_1:45 PM – 2:32 PM: Currency Tracking System check_ **

It seems like the days have no strict schedule, since I end my training sessions in various times of the afternoons. Flipping through the schedule, I see that I have Saturday and Sunday off, though I see reminder saying: YOU WILL BEGIN TO WORK WEEKENDS ON THE SEVENTEENTH OF NOVEMBER.

            However, I find myself returning to the second page just to look at the first thing listed for tomorrow’s schedule. I am going to go to Erudite tomorrow morning with Eric and Max. Probably to learn about their inter-faction relation with them, though seeing Jeanine again makes me feel woozy. Another thing that makes me anxious is that I might see a glimpse of my brother.

            I doubt he’ll recognize me, since I have a piercing, colored streaks in my hair, and tattoos, but he probably might squint and wait to hear me talk to confirm that it’s actually me.

            And to show loyalty to my faction, I can’t acknowledge him. As far as relations go in the view of others, we just share the same last name.

 

 


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

            I thought that we were going to ride the train to the fence like I did during initiation to my last trip to the fence, but instead of go with Veronica and the other Dauntless leader – Ross who I heard his name is – board into an armored truck that will take us from the Dauntless compound to the fence.

            I sit at one of the benches, my back pressed against the cold, steel surface.

            “Surveying the fence is very crucial when someone is in a leadership position,” explains Veronica, turning on a small tablet. “You make sure that the guards are doing their jobs and also to keep progress of what has been going on around the fence.”

            “In case the guards run into trouble or they saw something that disturbed them,” I say. “It would make sense why we would survey the fence.”

            “Exactly,” says Veronica. “The reason for this is to detect problems at the fence, therefore eliminating those problems and to check over what has happened in recent days.”

            Looking out the windows, I watch as the dilapidated cityscape drifts away from sight, eventually being replaced with yellow fields, signifying our arrival to the fence. Unlike the last time I was here, where patches of blue sky peeled through the cloud, today is overcast and some of the clouds are darker in comparison with the others in the sky.

            The truck comes to a stop and Ross throws the doors open so we can jump out. The moment I jump out of the truck, I feel something wet drop on my nose. It’s drizzling. It probably might progress to a heavy rain later on.

            “You might want to pay attention, as the information will become important,” says Veronica as the three of us approach the stairwell to the balcony that’s situated at the top of the fence. My hands grip the metal railing as I follow Veronica up the stairs, trying to keep my hair from blowing into my face.

            My feet find the concrete floor of the balcony and I look back, seeing that things are smaller in size from a distance.

            “When on an overview patrol, you talk with some of the fence guards to receive updates,” says Ross as walk east. “Most of the time, nothing is problematic but when they do, it’s best to log it in the system when you put in the date of your overview.”

            “When facing with a problematic situation, what else do you do?” I ask, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

            “We will ask the Amity if they saw anything odd before telling them that they should report to one of the fence guards if they see anything strange,” he answers. “Fortunately, there are not too many instances for them to do so.”

            I run my hands along the railing, observing that Amity headquarters is panned out before me. I hear conversations through headsets and if I’m correct, the signal stretches as far as to the Dauntless compound and the Pire.

            The Dauntless guards pay no mind to us as we walk past them, though Shauna waves a little and smiles when she sees me. I smile back.

            Then, the three of us stop walking and Ross opens a glass panel on the nearest wall and I watch as he touches the screen before typing in a series of numbers and letters before the message on the corner changes. “When you’re finished with your overview, you’ll update the log and you have to put your first name so we can keep track of who did their survey.”

            I look towards the other side of the fence, watching the Amity as they harvest their crops for the fall. “How do the Amity feel about the patrols? Does it bother them at all?”

            “There aren’t too many of us to make them feel intimidated,” says Veronica. “They have to interact with us when it comes to bringing goods into the city and when it comes to the outer limits of the Dauntless patrols. Speaking of which, we will pay a visit.”

            “Are we allowed to show her the outer limits?” asks Ross, scratching his head.

            “I asked Max before we left,” Veronica answers. “He said it was okay.”

            Out of the five leaders, Max seems to the head honcho of them, the one who makes the final decisions for the faction, just like how it is back in Abnegation, where Marcus has the final say in what goes on in Abnegation. Though lately, it seems that Jeanine is pulling the strings in Dauntless.

            It’s not long before we go down the staircase to ground level and we enter the armored truck again. I feel the engine start and it bumps against the grass and dirt, causing me to sway in my seat. I hear the driver of the truck speak with one of the guards standing by the gate.

            It takes an few seconds before the truck moves again and though Amity trucks drive to deliver food to the city, the roads are still bumpy enough that the tires tumble over them. It’s not long before the truck stops and we disembark.

            Getting out of the truck, I feel like I’m intruding on peaceful territory. I’m positive that we look hostile to the nearby Amity. I don’t have the peaceful mindset but I don’t want to feel like I’m violating anything.

            A dark-skinned woman in yellow and red comes out of Amity headquarters, though it’s not hard to recognize who she is. It’s hard to forget Johanna Reyes, whether you’ve seen her once or a thousand times. A scar stretches in a thick line from just above her right eyebrow to her lip, rendering her blind in one eye, where the pupil overwhelms the iris and giving her a lisp when she talks. I have only heard her speak once, but I remember.

            “Is there anything you need?” she asks politely.

            “We’re just passing through,” says Veronica. “Just showing a leader-in-training how a Dauntless leader does their overview patrols, and we intend on showing her the outer limits of the Dauntless patrols. It would be rude and rash to keep passing through without giving you further notice.”

            Though acting diplomatic and polite to the representative of another faction is expected, I’m surprised to see a Dauntless act civil to someone from Amity. Their ideals clash, since the brashness of the Dauntless and the docility of the Amity do not coincide with each other.

            Johanna leads us to one of the trucks and I sit in the truck bed with Veronica and Ross as the truck starts. I gaze at my surroundings, watching the members of Amity harvest their crops and loading them onto trucks, going into a stable where they keep their cattle. From a distance, I see Robert helping someone throw a bundle of wheat into an truck. He doesn’t seem to know that I’m there.

            I turn my face so that I’m looking at the direction where the truck is going.

            “Has anyone attempted to go beyond the outer limits?” I ask out loud.

            “If they did, we or the Amity would have to reset their memories,” Ross answers.

            “We had a few guards get a few miles beyond the limits because they were curious at what was out there, and of those instances their memories would have to be reset,” says Veronica.

            They say it so casually, that I found it frightening. I can’t imagine forgetting _everything_ about my identity to only make me forget one thing. That seems drastic.

            Watching the landscape, I notice how the fields are changing into what looks like a ruin of an old civilization – broken lamp posts, old power lines, and isolated pieces of cement with weeds forcing their way out of the concrete, collapsed buildings. It feels eerie, being in an area which was probably once vibrant with life.

            Like an old city rising from the fields.

            “This is it,” says Johanna from the driver’s seat.

            The engines stop and I hop from the bed of the truck. Going around the truck, I frown. There is no fence separating the Amity compound and the desolate and dangerous world outside. Only a series of signs with red X’s painted on them, and under the X’s are the words _DO NOT CROSS! DANGER!_

            The guards standing around the signs seem unperturbed, though a few keep squinting, like they are trying to see something in a distance.

            “The control room operators have to make sure that the guards don’t go beyond the signs,” says Veronica. “The patrols are specifically designed for the vehicles to run out of fuel when they get this far.”

            “It’s…too eerie,” I say, looking at the landscape behind the signs. A patch of sun peeks through a crack in the clouds, though it’s still drizzling, and I thought I see something glint in the sky, far off from a distance.

            “It’s eerie, I admit it,” acknowledges Veronica. “Though it’s something to get used to for someone who does their patrols.”

            Being around a ruined piece of civilization is more nightmarish then playing Dare or capture the flag in the dead of night.

 

* * *

 

            Since lunch lasts for a full hour, I don’t have to worry about being late. I can just eat my food and spend the remainder of that time socializing with my friends aside from speaking with Eric, which is what I’m currently doing at the moment as we move along the food line.

            “I can’t understand why the patrol guards would find it normal,” I say, putting a scoop of mashed potatoes on my plate. “Being around ruins would be eerie to see all day.”

            “It is, and it’s rather unsettling considering that people used to live in those buildings,” he replies. “It’s a relief that I didn’t get ranked below five.”

            I pick up an ladle and apply hamburger gravy on the mashed potatoes before picking up the spoon for the peas.

            “Why do you put gravy on your potatoes?” he asks, wrinkling his nose. “That stuff is disgusting.”

            “It’s not every day that I indulge myself,” I reply. “Besides, it tastes good.”

            “To you it may, but I’m not fond of putting gravy on my potatoes,” he says.

            I snort, placing the chicken breast between the peas and the mashed potatoes. “Back in Abnegation, lunch is forty-five minutes for a full faction member when they work. Why is it one hour here?”

            “The reason is to avoid penalizing someone for being late just because they waited for a long time to get your lunch,” Eric answers. “Understandable as it sometimes takes fifteen minutes to get your food.”

            “It’s not long in Abnegation because faction members usually work in government or community service work.” I put my tray on the table where Uriah is sitting with Marlene, Lynn, and Hector. “They can’t spend too much time by themselves.”

            “Sorry if this offends you, but I always found it sad that the Abnegation live self-forgetting lives,” says Lynn as I sit down.

            “That was rather…blunt,” I say.

            “I’m always blunt,” Lynn replies. “That is part of who I am.”

            I pick up my fork to begin eating; stuffing the gravy covered mashed potatoes in my mouth, tasting the spicy seasoning of the gravy sauce. I see a flash of movement under the table, and see Marlene’s hand meet Uriah’s over his knee. Their fingers twist together. They are both clearly trying to look casual, but they sneak looks at each other.

            To Marlene’s left, Lynn looks like she just tasted something sour. She shovels food into her mouth.

            “Where’s the fire?” Uriah asks her. “You’re going to hurl if you keep eating that fast.”

            Lynn scowls at him. “I’m going to hurl anyway, with you two making eyes at each other all the time.”

            Uriah’s ears turn red. “What are you talking about?”

            “I am not an idiot, and neither is anyone else. So why don’t you just make out with her and get it over with?”

            Uriah looks stunned. Marlene, however, glares at Lynn, leans over, and kisses Uriah firmly on the mouth, her fingers sliding around his neck, under the collar of his shirt.

            Lynn grabs her tray and storms away from the table. It’s not long before Christina and Will join us, looking like there are questions that they want to ask.

            “What was _that_ about?” asks Christina, sitting down at my right.

            “Don’t ask me,” says Hector. “She’s always angry about something. I’ve stopped trying to keep track.”

            “Lynn just doesn’t like it when others display affection,” I hear Tobias say and I look up to see that he and Zeke just joined us. “She said that it makes her want to vomit.”

            “I don’t see why she would be upset,” says Eric. “Public displays of affection are practiced daily here.”

            “What disgusts me is that you can’t seem to keep your hands off Tris,” says Tobias, not bothering to hide his disgust.

            “Acting _Stiff_ today, Four?” Eric sneers. “Seems like after two years, you would be used to couples making out publicly.”

            “Guys, can you please knock it off,” I insist. “Or I’m going to get someone to go between the two of you if it gets violent.”

            Tobias considers me for a moment before staring at his tray.

            “Hey, you will not believe what I saw in the feed while in the control room,” says Uriah, having an amused smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

            “One of the important things a faction leader does is organize files and put them in the correct spot,” says Jackie stiffly as I follow her into her office. “Often times, we would have to clean them out and isolate documents that don’t belong.”

            Looking at her desk, I see seven mounds of manila folders. I feel my brain become heavy.

            “I will be back in two hours and hopefully, you have everything organized.” She looks like she doubts it. Just because I’m former Abnegation, that doesn’t mean that I’ll fail easily.

            I nod and just after she leaves, I start towards the first folder on the first mound. What bothers me is that she didn’t tell me how to sort, though I glance at the label of the folder, getting an idea what should belong here.

            I open it up and go through papers that look like memos, though I find something that looks out of place: a piece of paper that looks like a list of scheduled events. I set it aside and continue looking through for any documents that don’t belong.

            It becomes monotonous: look through folders, taking out incorrect documents, and putting them back in the folder I thought where it belonged.

            I hear someone knock on the door. “She’s not here at moment. You can come back later if it’s important.”

            The door opens and I look up to see that it’s Eric. “How long have you been alone in here?” he asks.

            “Um, I don’t know, like thirty minutes,” I say.

            “She is supposed to be monitoring you on how you are doing this,” he says, slamming the door behind him. “Did she leave you specific instructions?”

            “Jackie just said to organize them until she gets back,” I reply.

            Eric snorts and rolls his eyes. “I’m going to have to talk with her. We’re _required_ to be specific when training someone in this position, not to mention monitoring them to make sure they get it right. Show me the files you completed while you continue to look through them.”

            I point to the pile on the chair before resuming my task, rubbing my neck. I open the file in my hand and begin looking through it to see if there is anything that doesn’t belong there. What it looks like is paperwork regarding past members dating a decade ago.

            “Seems like everything is okay so far,” I hear him say.

            “I just got the idea what goes where,” I reply.

            “Still, she shouldn’t have left you here without proper instruction,” he says.

            “I guess she thinks I’ll mess up when given no supervision. She didn’t seem too impressed that I was selected to succeed her,” I say, my eyes.

            “Probably because you were once Abnegation,” says Eric. “Common theory is that those from Abnegation or Amity are less likely to succeed because of the virtues of their faction. I don’t like many of the Abnegation too much, but I find it ironic that we don’t get transfers from there too often, since it takes bravery to be selfless all the time. Also, there was this girl from Amity who was also in my initiate class. She wasn’t in the top five but she passed initiation.”

            “Well, no one seems to like the Abnegation nowadays,” I say truthfully. “Courtesy goes to the Erudite for that.”

            “Not everyone hates your former faction,” says Eric. “Amity is on good terms with Erudite, but they are also friendly with the Abnegation. Trust them to be neutral.”

            “Thanks, that is rather reassuring,” I say. “And I wasn’t being sarcastic.”

            “Then you _really_ don’t belong in Abnegation, considering that you can be sarcastic,” he replies.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

The wind blows against my face as I stand in the train car with Max and Eric the next morning, heading to the Erudite sector. I have been dreading this last night: dreading seeing Jeanine for the second time, dreading the prospect of not acknowledging my brother.

            This morning, I told Eric my dread in the privacy of his apartment, though I only told him about the dread relating to my brother. I didn’t tell him about that dread involving Jeanine, though I should.

            “You’re going to have to hold on in there while we’re there,” he told me. “It might be painful not looking your brother in the eye, but you’re going to have to deal with it. There is always Visiting Day, though. You can see him next year and no one will stop you.”

            Though I can see Caleb on Visiting Day, the idea of waiting a year to acknowledge him is painful.

            The train slows down and dips to the ground. Max looks out the window and when he nods, Eric and I jump off the train.

            Erudite looks completely different during the day then at night, since more of the buildings are visible to see. The faction members are milling around everywhere. Erudite faction norms dictate that a faction member should wear blue every day, because blue is scientifically proven to release calming chemicals like endorphin. A calm mind is a clear mind, and a clear mind is needed to process information that they can use.

            Being Dauntless, the three of us stand out in the crowd of blue, causing them to move out of the way. They don’t look surprised by the sight of us though. They probably have seen Dauntless higher-ups visit Erudite headquarters before.

            I am the first one to pass through the glass doors and I stand inside the entrance, tilting my head back. The smell of dust-covered pages greets me and I can hear multiple keyboards being tapped with fingers. The wood-paneled floor creaks beneath my feet. People in blue are either behind a computer or reading a book.

            I scan the room and see Caleb sitting in a white leather chair, holding a book. I suppress the urge to walk towards him and instead, follow Eric and Max to the desk that is in front of a giant portrait of Jeanine. Anyone who displays their portrait in the faction headquarters has to be vain and self-obsessed.

            From my peripheral vision, I see Caleb glance at us before turning to his book. Then, I see him glance at us again. I pretend to look around the room once more and when my eyes lock with Caleb’s for an few seconds, it’s like he’s taking an double-take, like he’s trying to place me.

            The last time he saw me, I was just an Abnegation girl wearing grey. Now, my hair is streaked with pink, I have a stud on my eyebrow, and I’m wearing tight, black clothing. I’m nothing like the demure, quiet sister he once knew.

            I feel Eric put his hand on my shoulder and he steers me out of the room, following Max. The floor turns into white tile under my feet as we walk down the corridors, where the walls glow like the ceiling of the aptitude test.

            Three corridors from the lobby, we file into the elevator at the end of the hallway. My throat goes dry and I wring my hands, nervous at what might come from this.

            The doors slide open and we enter an empty hallway or it would be completely empty, if it weren’t for Jeanine approaching us, looking as if she expected us to come. “Morning, Max, Eric. Right on schedule.”

            “We tagged our new leader-in-training along,” says Max, gesturing to me, “so she can learn about inter-faction relations. If you don’t mind.”

            “No,” she says, turning her gaze to me. “I was hoping that you would bring her with you.” She turns completely to me, “It’s a pleasure to meet you again, Beatrice.”

            “It’s _Tris_ ,” I correct her, feeling the blood rush to my face. I thought I hear chuckles behind me.

            “I never understood why Dauntless members who originated from other factions insist on using an shorter variation of their birth names,” says Jeanine. “It’s illogical, to say the least. However, we must not linger.”

            She turns and walks toward the end of the hallway. We follow her into an office with a glass desk and three, white leather chairs – one behind her desk and two in front of it.

            “Now, initiation is over for you, but that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t talk about issues concerning both Dauntless and Erudite,” says Jeanine, sitting down. We don’t.

            “Initiation is over for us because someone decided it would be a good idea to get rid of those that outranked him,” says Eric. “Not to mention that a Candor transfer tossed himself over the railing.”

            “I could hardly fathom why the Dauntless tend to use aggression as a way to get what they want,” says Jeanine coolly. “Now, to address the topic at hand. According to the information, you gave me, only one simulation was unrecorded for no given reason. Perhaps someone slipped under your nose?”

            The hairs on my back rise. Is this all a set up to lure me into a trap?

            “That is our best guess, but given the circumstances, we have no proof whether he is Divergent or not,” says Max.

            Relief fills me. They are not talking about me. Who else was a Divergent in among the Dauntless initiates?

            “I do know that a computer overheat led to Beatrice Prior’s simulation go unrecorded, as what you informed me, Eric,” says Jeanine. “However, with Uriah Pedrad’s simulation, one result was unrecorded and while the fourth was recorded, the results were abnormal to say the least.

            I feel my pulse in my throat. No. Not Uriah. She can’t go after him. It’s past Dauntless initiation.

            “What if it isn’t Divergence?” I ask. “What if he fell under the weather for the first one and the abnormal result was a result of a computer malfunction?”

            “Ironically, that’s what Four claimed happened,” says Max, “only he said that there was a program error for the abnormal result.”

            “It is possible that those things could happened,” Jeanine cuts in. “However, we like to take precautions. The problem with the Pedrad case is that while he exhibited no behavioral trends outside the Dauntless norm, his simulation results were iffy to say the least.”

            “He acts one hundred percent Dauntless,” says Eric. “I could ask him if he could undergo another simulation, though doing that would mean that he’ll know that were watching and he would pretend to be unaware. In other words, it would be like looking through a needle in a haystack to even attempt to find a mistake in his decisions.”

            Jeanine leans back in her seat, considering it for a moment before saying, “You have a point, since it would be a complete waste of time. I’m going to have to label his case an inconclusive, only speculated.”

            Uriah is safe, for now.

            “Since you have a leader-in-training with you, I would like to explain how things are done, that way she will not be lost during the next visits.” Jeanine turns her full attention to me. “Now, Beatrice, why do you think that Erudite and Dauntless have inter-faction relations?”

            “Erudite enhances and creates the serums, and Dauntless has fear simulations, so most likely it’s based on that,” I answer.

            “Exactly,” she says, like she came across the smartest student in her class. “We supply the Dauntless their serums, give them enhanced, updated versions of the serum, and though they have technical support, we send them software updates for their simulation program, that way the technical support at Dauntless can install them.”

            I nod, knowing that Erudite is one of the crucial backbones of the city alongside with Amity.

            “Also, your faction aids in Erudite in terms of making sure that everything is clean in terms of recorded simulations,” Jeanine continues. “Naturally, someone from my faction will arrive at Dauntless to look through the files of Dauntless members to look for simulation results that were not recorded.”

            “Those simulations are still in the system?” I ask incredulously.

            “They have to be, as it is part of the record of that Dauntless member,” Eric answers. “The recorded information is only erased from the Dauntless database once an member dies or leaves the system.”

            “It’s nothing unusual to clean up records,” says Jeanine. “Simulation results can be deleted by accident, something could have disrupted the process, or _other_ factors that would cause the simulation to go unreported.”

            Other factors. I’m guessing that she means by Divergents being aware in simulations that the instructor doesn’t record the simulation.

            “Even if someone comes to Dauntless, I still have to keep record whether simulations were recorded or not,” I say.

            “Exactly, since it is your job as a Dauntless leader to monitor the progress of new initiates during initiation,” Jeanine answers, smiling coolly.

           

* * *

 

            The meeting lasts for another hour, and when everything is wrapped up, Jeanine has me stay behind.

            “I need a few words with you, Beatrice,” she says.

            “She has to start another project at eleven forty-five,” says Eric as Max leaves the room.

            “It will only take a few minutes,” Jeanine replies promptly. “I understand how demanding this process is.”

            Eric looks like he wants to say something but instead nods. “I’ll be outside.” When he leaves the room, I feel like I’m standing in the cage of a lion ready to pounce on its prey.

            “Have a seat,” says Jeanine.

            Reluctantly, I sit in one of the white leather chairs in front of her desk. I lace my hands together.

            “Well, I have seen that you took a great leap in terms of the faction you chosen,” she says. “The Abnegation hardly transfer to an faction like Dauntless, but you are the second person to receive an Abnegation result and switch to Dauntless.”

            So, Tobias and I are the only ones? No wonder they think that Abnegation-born transfers are considered fodder for being cut from initiation.

“Well, I always admired the Dauntless and I received a good idea of what to expect from Dauntless initiation,” I answer.

“However, I heard that there was an upset with your aptitude test,” says Jeanine. “It wasn’t recorded. Did you know that?”

“No,” I say.

“Was there a reason why it wasn’t recorded?” asks Jeanine.

“I threw up at the end of it,” I lie. Tori told me that she was going to say that I was sick and that’s why I left early. “The liquid was too strong for my stomach. I got sick after the last simulation was over too. Probably because of the liquid injected in me and experiencing one of my fears.”

“Do you habitually have a sensitive stomach, Beatrice?” she asks.

“Ever since I was young,” I say.

“It’s not unusual for people to become sick after the aptitude test,” says Jeanine. “Sometimes the immune system rejects the liquid given to the subject. That I can forgive. Likewise, nothing was too suspicious about the reason one of your fear simulations wasn’t recorded, since the computer was overheated.”

“The keyboard was smoking by the time I got out of the simulation,” I reply. I remember the smell of smoke and seeing smoke emit from the keyboard. Eric claimed to her that the equipment was overheated but he probably did something else that caused the keyboard to smoke like that.

“Though, you did pass initiation and are training to be a Dauntless leader,” says Jeanine. “I’m sure your brother would be proud.”

She knows Caleb. The Erudite leaders probably interact with the initiates during initiation.

“I don’t know about that,” I say.

“If you want to talk to him, I’ll summon him to my office,” says Jeanine. “That way you two can get caught up on things.”

As tempting as it is to see Caleb and to talk to him again, I feel as if what Jeanine is offering might be bait. She wants to test me, test to see if I’m loyal to my faction.

“I can see him on Visiting Day next year,” I reply. “I can’t today and the rest of the year because my schedule will be tight. I have to start a project at eleven forty-five.”

“It’s refreshing to see that you have your priorities organized,” says Jeanine.

I’ll never be Candor, because everything I said was an lie.

 

* * *

 

Eric is still there when I exit Jeanine’s office. Max is nowhere in sight.

“What did she talk to you about?” he asks, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

“She just asked me if Dauntless leadership training was going good for me,” I answer. “Where’s Max?”

“He had to go back to Dauntless,” Eric answers as he presses the elevator button. “He’ll tell Veronica that you’ll be a few minutes late.”

I don’t know Veronica too well to know how she’ll react to me being a few minutes late, but I’m pretty positive that she will not be too happy. “Veronica is probably not going to be pleased.”

“Considering that she gets annoyed by the Erudite’s knack for detail, she won’t be pleased,” he says as the elevator door opens. Then she’s going to be upset. We file into the elevator and I feel it go down a few floors. Though the light glows through the metal walls, I manage to catch my reflection.

The girl staring back at me looks stern, like she’s scolding me about being here. It’s frightening that one could look stern wearing piercings and tattoos. It’s even more frightening because that person is me and what I’m capable of after just a month in Dauntless.

The door slides open and we walk out, standing out in a hallway with a few Erudite like stubborn gnarled weeds among a bed of freshly kept flowers. I’ll feel better once we’re back at Dauntless, once our feet are on uneven ground.

I look straight ahead at the door, not bothering to look around for Caleb. It’s risky anyway.

“Beatrice?” I hear him ask, touching my wrist. I turn to see him standing next to me, holding a closed book in his hands. He wears the crisp, blue clothing of the Erudite, though he isn’t adopting the glasses. His stance is uncertain and it’s like he doesn’t know what to say.

“What do you need?” Eric asks him irritably, taking a step towards him.

Caleb doesn’t waver at the sight of him, though he probably feels intimidated at the fact that Eric is standing so close to him. I remember being intimidated by Eric when I first met him that I didn’t want him to look at me as I didn’t want to look at him. Caleb takes a step back and says, “Nothing.”

“Good. Don’t waste our time,” says Eric. He puts his hand on my lower back and ushers me out of the building.

Though we’re running late and I understand that he felt like Caleb was wasting a minute, it’s like Eric unintentionally sent up red flags to Caleb. I can feel Caleb looking at us as we walk down the sidewalk.

He’s probably concerned about me being in close proximity with a Dauntless member who looks intimidating and hostile.

 

* * *

 

“Where have you two been?” Veronica demands as we enter her office. On her desk is a pile of papers.

“It’s not her fault,” says Eric. “Jeanine held her over for five minutes.”

“Why do the Erudite love elaborating on things?” Veronica lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls her eyes. “Not to mention you feel the need to be specific as well.”

“Old habits die hard, Veronica,” says Eric. “Now, I’m going to the control room to see if no one has gone past the outer limits.”

He leaves the room and Veronica claps her hands together.

“Now, what you see on my desk are memos,” she starts. “It’s important for Dauntless leaders to write and correct memos before sending them out to faction members. You’ll learn how to create a memo, but that’s not until Friday. Today you will learn how to revise a memo.”

She opens up a document and I see that it already has something written on it, like the date and to whom it’s sent; seems like I do have to correct some things.

“The paper shows what it’s supposed to look like,” says Veronica, holding one of the sheets of paper. “However, the digital documents will have mistakes like grammar or the date is wrong. Before these memos can be sent out, they need to be revised.”

If it’s just minimal mistakes, it wouldn’t be too difficult.

“Each memo has one or two mistakes which you will find,” she says. “We have about an hour, so take your time. If you rush, that’s when mistakes happen. Get started.”

I sit behind her computer and look at the memo on the screen and compare it with the memo on the top of the pile. Looking over it, I see that the date was printed wrong and two words were switched around.

I hastily correct those mistakes and move on to the next memo. When looking for errors, I start from the top and work my way towards the bottom. It’s like trying to find errors in the code during the computer programming test during the selection process, only they there are no numbers mixed with random letters.

I take my time, though it doesn’t take long to make the necessary corrections. I work over the last memo and finish it in over two minutes.

Veronica looks over my work and nods. “Excellent, Tris. You took your time.”

 

* * *

 

“How is your day of leadership training so far?” Christina asks me during the beginning of lunch.

“Not too bad,” I answer, twirling my fork around the noodles of my spaghetti. “Though during my trip to Erudite headquarters this morning, Jeanine held me over for five minutes, mainly to ask about how the training was going.”

“I would have been intimidated,” says Uriah. “It would be unnerving to sit in front of the leader of Erudite.”

“My brother, intimidated?” asks Zeke, shaking his head. “Don’t become a pansycake Uriah.”

“Actually, brother, brawn isn’t the only thing that intimidates you,” he points out. “Intelligence can intimidate someone too.”

“It depends how smart that person is,” Jocelyn puts in. “It was no lie that I was intimidated of the Erudite during my days in school.”

“Wait, Jeanine held you over for five minutes?” asks Tobias, setting his tray next to Zeke’s.

“Only to ask how everything was going for me,” I answer. “Especially that leadership training.”

“Oh,” says Tobias, but it looks like he doesn’t buy it; like he has an idea why Jeanine talked to me.

“Anyway, Eric was pretty upset about that,” I say before putting some spaghetti in my mouth. “He didn’t want me to be late for revising memos.”

“He loves being punctual, does he?” asks Christina.

“Oh, he is punctual,” says Jocelyn. “In fact, the leaders are punctual as well. Not that I blame them.”

“One has to be punctual when you’re working that sort job, Jocelyn.” Eric drops in an seat next to me. “What irritated me is that she was late for a project.”

“So we heard,” says Lynn dryly.

I continue to eat, though I feel him rub his hand against my knee. I try to act casual, trying not to make it obvious. Though, I feel the blood rush to my face.

“Why are you blushing?” asks Marlene, who’s halfway through her burger.

“Um, no,” I lie, continuing my spaghetti. His hand leaves my knee and travels up my back, under the black fabric of my shirt. My breathing threatens to hitch, though I try to suppress it.

Someone drops their fork and I hear Tobias say, “If you two are going to put your hands up each other’s clothes, do it where no one will see.”

“Stop being such a dick about her life choices,” says Jocelyn. “When one is taken, don’t keep fighting over her like she’s the last piece of cake on the platter.”

“It’s not like that,” backpedals Tobias, paling.

“Guess I shouldn’t have decided who was honorable and who wasn’t when I first stepped in here,” I say, looking at him. “You do realize that if you keep acting like this, it’s going to alienate people and not leave you in my good graces. An honorable Dauntless man does not keep trying to fight over an girl who’s already spoken for. That is rather selfish on your part, since you obviously don’t care about how your friends feel about you acting like that.”

I wince. I didn’t intend on saying that, especially with the look that Tobias has now, like I punched him the face. He should know that I don’t like to be fought over like the factionless fighting over the last scraps of food, because that’s what it feels like.

I stand up and leave the table, just so it doesn’t explode into an ugly argument. Once out of the dining hall, I cross the Pit to the railing of the chasm. My fingers grip the railing as I watch water flowing down the river in the crevice.

“Are you okay?” Eric asks behind me.

I turn to meet his eyes, which are alright with concern. I can count on Eric to ask me concerning my wellbeing, something that he wouldn’t do for most people.

“What frustrates me is that while I have an boyfriend, Four thinks it’s okay to be hostile about it,” I say. “I’m not some scrap of food for people to fight over, even if it’s been taken.”

“He’ll get over it, once he realizes that he can’t be involved in you,” says Eric. “Besides, looks like you will strike a cord with him with those words you just said back there.”

“You didn’t think it was unnecessary?” I ask.

“It is selfish to throw a tantrum over a girl he might not have considering how his friends might think about it,” he says. “You don’t have to be Abnegation to know what is selfish and what is not. My friends would hate it if I acted the way he did.”

He’s right. It is selfish to not think how your friends would feel about acting negatively to someone you like getting with the person you hate. As far as I know, my friends don’t like Eric, but they don’t say anything disparaging about it.

They probably tolerate it as to not alienate me.

            “If he liked me, he would respect my decisions,” I say. “The Abnegation say something about hate, that it blinds men and leads them into darkness. I guess that he’s blinded by hatred of you that he doesn’t want to see anything good.”

            “When we don’t hate someone, you usually associate negative and terrible things with them,” says Eric. “With Peter, your anger towards him is justified, since he tried to kill you during initiation. As for Four, he hates me for something I didn’t do, when there are other suspects. That is the reason why I prefer people who I don’t like to not mention my faction of origin.”

            “Why don’t you want certain people to mention Erudite around you,” I ask.

            “People seem to think that when people from Erudite join Dauntless, they become callous and cruel,” says Eric. “Will, from what I noticed, is far from that. Not to mention some people think I’m a plant from Erudite and didn’t actually have aptitude for Dauntless. If I didn’t have aptitude, I wouldn’t have ranked second like I did.”

            _Or else you’re Divergent_ , I think. It would explain why he is a genius, yet someone who has the capacity to be brave. Since Jeanine is after Divergents, why did she plant Eric in Dauntless to specifically look for Divergents, unless she doesn’t know?

            However, I can’t ask him yet. Not now.

            I inch myself closer to him, put my hands on his shoulders and kiss him on the lips. He puts his hands on the curves of my waist and pulls me closer. We fit just perfectly, like puzzle pieces.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

            “As I said earlier, the currency tracking system keeps our faction running smoothly,” says Eric as we both go inside his office. “What it does is keep track of Dauntless credits given and spent, therefore making an quota of how much was spent and given during the week. What you also do is sort numbers into the Dauntless members’ account.”

            He turns on his computer and I watch as he taps an icon on his computer screen. It opens to a program with a grid full of numbers and decimals. “You will see this, though you should pull this list up from the side at times.” He taps something on the keyboard and a list appears on the right side of the screen.

            “This list is composed of Dauntless credits each member has earned in the past few days,” Eric continues. “One could add them all up manually, but that would be time consuming. There is a button at the top which adds up the amount. You don’t just add up the number of credits earned, you also track how much credits were spent.”

            Usually when someone explains detailed information to them, I just tune them out. However, this time I pay close attention to him, as I want to get everything right. Besides, it’s fascinating to see Eric go into detail, like that Erudite part of him knows how to be suppressed but shown when he wants it to.

            It fascinates me yet it’s scary. It’s like he is two people: The Erudite-born Dauntless leader who has still retained his Erudite habits and the ruthless Dauntless leader with an penchant to inflict pain who enjoys seeing the result of it. It’s probably odd for the other Dauntless to see an Abnegation-born girl fresh from initiation get with a guy most parents wouldn’t want their daughters to get romantically involved with. My mother didn’t seem unnerved by him on Visiting Day but she and my father would shake their heads at my choice for a boyfriend.

            “Any questions?” he asks me, turning away from the screen.

            “No,” I answer.

            He gets up so I can sit down. It feels warm since he recently sat in the chair. I look at the screen in front of me as Eric leans over my shoulder. “To begin sorting, you go here.”

            He shows a tab and I click on it, and I see the numbers change places on the screen. It’s fascinating, to be honest. “Now, what you do is sort them from ascending to descending.”

            It’s simple, though time consuming. I look at the numbers and the decimals, sorting them from the biggest number to the lowest.

            “Good, now take a look at the list of credits spent for the day,” he said. He directs me to one of the side buttons and I click it. Another list opens up at the side, though it is shorter and contains the list of places in Dauntless. Next to it are numbers in the hundreds.

            I click on the button to add them together and I see a big number appear at the bottom of the list.

            “That wasn’t too hard,” he says, “and now to record that number…” I right-click on the number and it opens up in a text box. What I do is put my electronic signature on it before entering it into the system.

            The last thing to do is record the number of credits allocated. What is a little distracting is that Eric is looking over my shoulder to view my progress. I’m astonished that they even allow him to be in the same room with me during my training period, since it’s no secret that we’re involved romantically.

            I add up the credits and I record that I updated the sum.

            This was time consuming, but simple.

 

* * *

 

            “Are you sure this is acceptable?” I ask Christina and Jocelyn. “I might get in trouble for this.”

            We are standing outside Peter’s apartment door, and Christina is holding two cartons of an dozen eggs. She and Jocelyn coaxed the cooks down in the kitchen to spare them one and once I was finished with my training session, they lured me into this opportunity.

            “Egging a dickhead’s door is not going to cause any trouble,” says Christina. “Pranks are common place in Dauntless.”

            “Besides, I asked Eric about it yesterday,” Jocelyn adds. “He says you won’t get into trouble for it.”

            “That’s welcoming to hear,” I say. “What if Peter comes down this hallway right now?”

            “He’s not going to leave his shift until two hours,” Christina replies. “Enough time for him to smell splattered eggs on his apartment door.”

            The Abnegation girl in me scolds me for this, that egging someone’s door is selfish and only brings attention to myself. The vengeful Dauntless girl that I am encourages me to do this, that Peter deserves this for everything he has ever done, though he deserves far worse than having his apartment door egged.

            “Who should do most of the throwing?” asks Christina.

            “Let me,” I answer, taking two eggs from the carton she is holding. “I have more beef with him then you do. Besides, I need to let out some remaining pent up anger.”

            I concentrate on his apartment door, like it’s the knife target in one of the training rooms. Holding my breath, I swing my arm back and throw the egg. It splatters on the center of the door.

            At Christina and Jocelyn’s giggles, I throw the second egg in my hand. It hits his doorknob.

            I pick up two more eggs. “This” – it collides under where the first egg hit – “is for what you did to Edward!”

            I throw the fourth egg. “This” – it splatters right on the peephole – “is for trying to throw me over the chasm!”

            It’s not long before his door becomes splattered with eggs, and Christina and Jocelyn decide to throw more eggs at his door.

            “This is fun,” says Christina.

            “Honestly, this is a good way to take out stress,” says Jocelyn.

            When I throw my umpteenth egg, I hear Tobias ask, “What’s going on here?”

            I turn to see him approaching us and I see that he’s trying not to smile.

            “We are giving Peter his present,” Jocelyn answers with a toothy grin as Christina fights hard not to laugh.

            “He probably will report you if he saw that,” says Tobias.

            “Why should he?” demands Christina. “Pranks happen in Dauntless.”

            “Exactly,” says Tobias.

            “Well, apparently the level of work on this door was satisfying,” says Jocelyn. “There isn’t much that we can do.”

            “Let’s see what the guys are up to,” says Christina, before she and Jocelyn walk away. I start to follow.

            “Tris,” says Tobias.

            I turn my body towards him. The way he holds himself is uncertain and he even looks uncertain. He probably remembers my outburst in the cafeteria during lunch.

            “I thought about what you said in the cafeteria earlier,” he remarks sheepishly, “and…” he takes a deep breath, “…you were right. It was selfish of me to act the way I did. I was pushing you away from me.”

            “What infuriated me is that you continued to fight over me like I was the last piece of cake,” I point out, “especially if I was already involved with someone. It’s too late for that.”

            “I know and I got out of line,” Tobias admits. “I think it was harder for me because you chose someone who I hate and who sends out red flags to every girl’s parents.”

            “Marcus has a clean reputation and look what he did to you, to your mother,” I point out. “A reputation for being ruthless is no guarantee that he’ll treat me the same way that Marcus did your mother.”      

            Tobias purses his lips, like he’s hesitating on the answer, but I can guess what it is.

            “You thought that Eric was beating me, did you?” I demand.

            “I doubt it now, though some people guess that he is,” says Tobias.

            I bite my lip. I’m hoping that Caleb didn’t get that message today when he saw me and Eric in close proximity. What bothers me was that Tobias thought that Eric was harming me.

            “Well, they are wrong,” I say. “I don’t showcase any bruises nor do I exhibit the emotional signs.”

            “When Marcus beat me and Ev – my mother, he didn’t hit us where one might see, and some think that Eric is probably hitting you in places where no one can see them and that he probably coached you to not act off. Because of his reputation, they think that’s what’s happening.”

            “What did you hear this from?” I demand.

            “Zeke and Shauna have additional social circles,” Tobias answers. “Probably three or four people.”

            “Well, can you tell Zeke and Shauna to tell their friends that it isn’t true,” I ask, feeling the blood rush to my face.

            “I’ll try my best,” he says. “And I’ll try not letting my hate blind me from seeing things objectively.”

            At least I convinced him. However, I need to ask him something.

            “What possessed you to believe that Eric would abuse me?” I demand. “If he physically abused me, why would he teach me how to defend myself?”

            “Considering his reputation, and that his position is control-oriented, I also thought that it was happening,” says Tobias. “After you called me out today, I thought more about it and ultimately decided that I only privately accused him as such because I hated him. I crossed that possibility out of my mind when I took into consideration that he took you under his wing for stage one. I knew it doesn’t coordinate with me vocalizing my distaste of your public displays of affection, but really I was just trying to justify to myself why I didn’t want you with him.”

            That is reason enough.

 

* * *

 

Later that afternoon, I go to Eric’s apartment and the first thing I do is brew myself some herbal tea. Seeing that he owns tea packets, he must make himself tea sometimes; probably to unwind his mind before he goes to bed.

            He should like this when he comes back.

            I think what Tobias said to me just now. What disturbed me is that some people actually think that Eric abuses me. I understand that he is ruthless with a sadistic streak as well as arrogant, but that is no guarantee that he’ll cause me harm.

            He’s no saint, but even saying that he abused me is defamation of character. I’m just surprised that this didn’t spread like wildfire considering that he is a Dauntless leader, but Dauntless is an large faction.

            I could see why they would think that, because of his reputation, but it’s not true.

            I should tell him, even though he’s going to blow a gasket at this. It will be cowardly not to.

            I hear the door unlock and it opens.

            “Hey,” he says, smiling at me. He removes the vest and sets it aside before going into the kitchen, where he wraps his arm around my waist and pecks me on the lips.

            “Hey,” I reply. “How was the rest the day?”

            “Pretty well.” He withdraws his arm and approaches the stove. “Brewing tea?”

            “Yeah, I felt like it,” I say.

            “That’s fantastic,” he says. “Was your day eventful after that tutorial?”

            I gulp. “Tobias talked to me,” I say.

            “He did?” Eric inquires, though he doesn’t look suspicious.

            “He thought about what I said and decided that I had a point,” I answered. “That it was selfish of him to act that way around the two of us.”

            “It was about time that he quit that temper tantrum of his,” Eric says with a triumphant smirk on his face.

            “However, Tobias said that a few people have misplaced concerns about the nature of our relationship,” I add.

            His smirk is replaced with an incredulous expression and he steps forward. “What sort of concerns?”

            “They think that you abuse me,” I say. “Physically abuse me, that is. That you hit me places where no one would see.”

            I watch his reaction to this and he becomes unreadable. “What?” he demands, his voice low and dangerous.

            “I know,” I say. “This is defamation of character and I’m surprised that this didn’t spread.”

            “What infuriates me is that people are stupid to believe that I would lay a hand on you,” says Eric. “I would never belittle someone who is my significant other. Can’t some people separate my reputation from my private life?”

            “Your reputation is the reason they think that,” I point out.

            “Look at Marcus Eaton. His reputation is pristine and the Abnegation will never believe that he abused his wife and Four because of that,” Eric points out. “Have I hit you?”

            “No,” I answer.

            “Told you that you were worthless and amounted to nothing?”

            “Of course not.”

            “Do I pressure you to go further in the relationship then you want to?”

            “Obviously, no.”

            “Then, no, I didn’t do those things to you and I never will,” he stated. “I didn’t grow up in an unstable environment. My parents didn’t say ‘yes’ all the time. I wasn’t raised to be the entitled gender. My parents didn’t tell me to stifle certain emotions. Am I arrogant? Yes, but I know that the world does not revolve around me, and yet what boggles my mind is that people think that.”

            I don’t say anything. He needs to vent.

            “Not everyone here is fit for Erudite,” he says quietly before raising his voice. “They get high on adrenaline too much to even think logically. Stupid enough to think that every Erudite that comes through here after the Choosing Ceremony becomes ruthless and brutal when they are capable of having a sense of humor!”

            He grabs a mug that’s sitting on the drying rack and throws it on the refrigerator. It cracks on impact and it shatters when it hits the floor. He steps over the debris and darts towards the door.

            “Eric!” I shout. But he proceeds to slam the door. I sighed. I knew that he was going to blow a gasket at this. I just hope that he doesn’t beat anyone up.

            I decide to pick up the pieces of the mug. I place the pieces in my palm and throw them out. I should keep the tea on simmer until he comes back.

 

* * *

 

            He comes back thirty minutes later when I was getting things around for dinner, and the first thing I see are his split knuckles. There aren’t any defensive wounds on him, so he must have took it out on the punching bag.

            “Let it all out?” I ask him as he sits down at the kitchen table.

            “Yeah,” he answers. “Figured the punching bag was favorable compared to hunting Four down.”

            “One doesn’t shoot the messenger,” I tell him before pouring tea into a mug for him. “Here. This will make you feel better.”

            He takes the handle of the mug and clasps my hand with his other hand. “Your knuckles are almost like mine: scabbed over places where they split.”

            It’s true. That’s what happens when one keeps pounding on the punching bag. “I’ll get calluses too after being here for a prolonged period of time.”

            “When you’ll be here for two years like me your hands will look like mine,” he says with a smirk.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

           September had faded into October. The weather outside proved just as much, as it was wetter and colder. In Amity and Erudite, I’m sure they saw additional signs, like the leaves falling from the trees.

            Leadership training is going smooth. The regimen hasn’t turned physical yet, as I’m still learning how to use programs and manage files, not to mention that I had to take a tutorial of diplomacy. It shouldn’t surprise me that diplomacy was required when interacting with the representatives of other factions. The Dauntless don’t have ties with the Abnegation, though there are those meetings that they have every five months between the five factions.

            Father didn’t abuse me like Marcus did to Tobias, but it makes me nervous to see him. I still remember that look he gave me when I left with the Dauntless. He would frown on my choice of boyfriend as well.

            In the first week of October, since we were technically living together, as we would spend the night at each other’s apartments but more in his, I made the decision to move into Eric’s apartment. I packed up my meager belongings and turned in my key.

            The residential liaison gave me a look when I told her who I was moving in with, like it was a stupid decision on my behalf. “Good luck,” she said to me, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.

            The thing about his reputation, I understand why he has it. He recently told me, “In Dauntless, it’s best to be ruthless then kind, because when you’re ruthless, you get that respect. Being kind here only allows people to walk all over you like a doormat.” It’s no lie that Amity and Dauntless actually clash, and that is the reason.

            I thought there were just two kinds of the Dauntless: the honorable kind and the ruthless kind. Perhaps it’s best to learn both to survive, to be ruthless yet honorable in your intentions.

            The Dauntless manifesto mentions committing ordinary acts of bravery, that we should have courage to stand up for the other. While people might argue that he doesn’t, I can attest to that. To a degree, Eric does believe in ordinary acts of bravery. He wouldn’t have saved me if he didn’t care for me.

            He wouldn’t have saved me if he wasn’t Dauntless.

 

* * *

 

            That morning, I awake to the sound of the buzzer. Since it’s at my side of the bed, I take a peek at it. It’s five thirty in the morning.

            I grab my pillow and put it over my head. It’s October tenth, the day where the leaders of the factions, Abnegation councilmembers included, get together and discuss plans for the last months of the year. I was dreading it when it was mentioned that I should come along to see how these meetings work, to learn how to participate in these meetings, as Max said. Over the course of September into October, an issue has been raised among the Dauntless leaders about returning the Dauntless to the factionless sector. I wanted to assert that they’ve been removed because it was felt that the factionless needed help instead of policing. That was what I wanted to say, until Eric brought up the percentage of homicides among the factionless, and his assertion that squalor and extreme poverty lead people to act out on desperation.

            “Come on, sleepy head,” I hear Eric say, before he pulls the pillow from my fingers.

            I groan and roll over, keeping my arm over my eyes. “I don’t want to go,” I mutter.

            “You have to, as this is part of your training process,” he replies.

            I sigh, knowing that there is no use arguing with him. I don’t want to risk trouble, either. Reluctantly, I throw the blankets off of me and stretch before leaving the bed. As I approach the clothing rack to look for what to wear, Eric says, “The Abnegation are going to cook breakfast for the leaders of other factions, I heard.”

            I turn to him, frowning. “They never make breakfast beforehand.”

            “Due to the tension between Erudite and Abnegation, I’m not surprised if they changed it,” he notes. “Blue calms the mind, but food keeps the individual from getting too angry.”

            That makes sense now, since the councilmembers were probably worrying about what would transpire in that meeting with the Erudite there. However, even with breakfast provided, Jeanine Matthews will still try to sabotage the Abnegation, with using Dauntless or maybe even Amity as back up.

            I take a set of black clothes and leave for the bathroom. We have until seven to get there, but we decided to get up at five thirty to get an early start. I allow the warm water to run down my body as I washed myself. I’m training to be a Dauntless leader and to be professional, one must be clean.

            I’m not going to wear the eyeliner either.

            I’m pulling on my black tank top when Eric comes into the bathroom. Looking at the mirror, it’s like a moving portrait.

            “Is there a particular reason why you are dreading this?” he asks me as I brush my hair.

            “My father didn’t particularly approve of my decision,” I tell him. “He didn’t even show up for Visiting Day.”

            “Likewise with my father and he is a faction leader,” says Eric.

            I drop my brush, looking at him in the mirror. “Your father is an Erudite leader?”

            “Yeah,” he answers. “Ever since I was in diapers. He is considered Jeanine’s right-hand because he has the second highest IQ to hers.”

            “Who is the third leader?” I ask, picking up my brush.

            “Jeanine’s brother William,” Eric answers. “The three highest IQs get appointed for leadership.”

            Since Eric’s father is an Erudite leader, that was probably another factor for him being planted at Dauntless, especially for the leadership position. Out of the pool of past Erudite dependents, of course Jeanine would be interested in selecting the dependent whose parents are prominent members of the faction. It would make sense.

            But I don’t bring it up. I pick up my clip and partially restrain my hair at the side of my head. “It will be easier for you than me, because I just left my old faction a few months ago.”

            “It will not be hard for you,” he says, turning me to face him. “You didn’t acknowledge your brother at Erudite headquarters, so it will be easy to not acknowledge your father during the meeting at Hub.”

            Though I hate that thought, I know that Eric has a point. There is ‘faction before blood’ to consider. Giving my family members eye contact will mean that I’m not satisfied with my faction of choice.

            Not giving my father eye contact is going to make him think that I’m angry with him. However, I shouldn’t give them the idea that I regret joining Dauntless.

            “You’re right, it is easy,” I tell him. “There is always Visiting Day.”

            “Yes, and I’ll think he’ll understand why you wouldn’t give him eye contact,” says Eric.

            “Yeah,” I say, my throat tight.

            He pecks me on the lips and runs his hand down my neck. I feel my pulse quicken at his touch. I like it when my heart beat reacts to his touch, like it knows who it is. I look at his grey eyes, which could captivate you and put you in place, yet glare holes into you if the circumstances were different.

            I leave the bathroom so he could take his shower. In the bedroom, I take a jacket from the rack and remove it from its hanger. I shouldn’t hide my Abnegation tattoo, but it would be risky to showcase it, especially since I have chosen Dauntless.

 

* * *

 

            Outside, there is only an occasional drizzle and the air feels cold; reminiscent of an October morning. I look at the Hub as we run towards it, its two prongs stabbing the sky. The last time I was here, I was unsure where I was going to go, what I was going to choose.

            Inside, it’s warmer and dry and instead of taking the stairs, we go up the elevator. I decide to stand at the back, so that my shoulders can touch the metal walls of the elevator. I feel my stomach tie in a knot from nervousness. I’m not ready for this.

            Apparently, my anxiety must be visible.

            “There is nothing to worry about from this,” Veronica assures me. “Just watch us while we make our points across, so you can think of yours.”

            “You already had to go through initiation, which was the hard part,” says Max. “If you didn’t pass initiation, you wouldn’t be here now.”

            I smile weakly, though that is not what I was worrying about. I don’t have stage fright.

            Eric laces his fingers with mine, like it’s meant to be a comforting gesture. In moments, the elevator will reach the tenth floor and I’ll see the members of my former faction. I’m sure father will not approve what I did with myself, but those were my decisions.

            The elevator stops and the doors slide open to a short corridor. I can smell the aroma of breakfast food wafting into the hallway as well as hear soft conversation. Either were the second faction to come here or we are the third.

            “Reckon that Erudite is here?” asks Jackie as we walk down the hallway to the dining hall.

            “No, too soft,” Eric points out. “Erudite conversation is more sharp and pointed.”

            “You would know,” I say. “Either Johanna is here already or we’re the second to arrive.”

            “That about sums it up,” says Max as we enter the room. Conversation stops as we enter the room, which contains fifty people in Abnegation grey, though I see Johanna Reyes sitting next to Marcus, and three of the councilmembers are standing by the buffet.

            Marcus stands up. “Welcome. Breakfast is being served and your seats have been assigned.”

            It’s disturbing that Marcus makes himself look amiable when he is not, but from my peripheral vision, father is looking at me with surprise and disbelief. I’m sure he knew I was coming when they looked at the roster of who was coming, though he’s probably surprised that actually gave myself a piercing and that I streaked my hair pink.

            The three councilmembers take their places behind the buffet and seeing that one of them is Susan and Robert’s father, I decide to go last, behind Eric.

            “No wonder you’re nervous,” he says quietly. “We’re surrounded by fifty members of your former faction.”

            “It doesn’t help that half of these people know who I am,” I whisper. “In Abnegation, everybody knows everyone else.”

            “Just like Erudite,” says Eric.

            As soon as Jackie is halfway through the line, three people in blue enter the room. The three leaders from the Erudite faction.

            Marcus hesitates before welcoming them.

            “Do you know what could have caused Jeanine to be antagonistic towards the Abnegation?” I ask Eric as he takes his plate.

            Eric gestures to a plate of oatmeal with peaches in it and Mr. Black hands it to him. “What I do know is that Jeanine and Marcus were pretty chummy with each other until about two years ago.”

            I know that too. While father was still friends with Marcus, he didn’t approve of Marcus’s ties with Jeanine and around the time when Tobias left for Dauntless, the two had a fall out. Marcus claimed differences of opinion, though I wonder if it had to with what Marcus did to Tobias and Evelyn.

            “It’s true that we had our differences,” says Jeanine, who is standing behind me. “Though the reason was very disquieting.”

            I don’t answer back, as I don’t want them to think that I agree with the Erudite, despite the fact that the accusation against Marcus is in fact true.

            When I’m in front of Mr. Black, I feel the blood pound in my ears. The disapproving look that he is giving me isn’t helping matters either. I’m no longer the nice Abnegation girl who lived in the house nearby. Initiation has hardened me, has made me jaded and unforgiving of those who wronged me.

            “Um, just plain oatmeal,” I say nervously.

            His disapproving expression turns quizzical, like he didn’t expect me to be nervous. Did he expect me to be boisterous? That’s how the Abnegation see the Dauntless. He hesitates before handing me the bowl of oatmeal.

            The next Abnegation councilmember I face is Alice Brewster, who looks at me like I’m a completely different person. I’m far from the quiet, polite daughter of a co-worker who spent her volunteer hours cleaning Abnegation headquarters and help cook food for the factionless.

            I gesture at the hash brown patties, which she puts one on my plate. The next councilmember appears placid, fortunately, but that doesn’t erase the feeling that a spotlight is being shined on me. I am not ashamed that I was once Abnegation, but today I feel like it would have been better if I was born in either Dauntless or Erudite.

            Eric waits for me at the end of the food line, holding his tray. That’s one of the things I like about him: he doesn’t start without me. He hands me a plastic cup of orange juice before getting his own, and we go to the cluster of tables.

            “Usually, these fall meetings cover possible changes for the city,” he explains to me as we arrive at a table. “Either introducing new ideas or bringing back old ones, like what we are proposing.”

            Looking at the name cards, I see that I sit between Eric and Jeanine. Though I don’t mind sitting next to Eric, the thought of sitting next to Jeanine makes the insides of my stomach curdle. Eric and put down our trays and move our chairs together before we sit down, elbow to elbow.

            “I still don’t understand why you prefer your oatmeal plain,” says Eric as I cut up my hash brown patty while the other four Dauntless leaders join us.

            “I don’t see the point of adding anything,” I reply. “I always had my oatmeal plain.”

            “We need you to get out of that Abnegation habit soon enough,” he says with an amused smirk.

            I hit him playfully in the arm, and the Abnegation members at the table behind us cast us disapproving glances, like they want to scold us for drawing attention to ourselves. “I’m not as uptight as I used to be.”

            “Which is a relief,” he says in reply.

            When the Erudite leaders join us, it’s like the air decreased, especially since Jeanine is now sitting to my left. I would feel better sandwiched between Eric and Veronica, but unfortunately, I can’t change seats.

            “How lucky that we are sitting next to each other,” says Jeanine.

            I find it troublesome, in fact.

            “I could hardly fathom why the Dauntless appoint mere children as faction leaders,” drawls a black-haired Erudite man, whose name card identifies him as Cedric Matheson. He gives me an austere glance and continues, “And it seems like the Dauntless has sunk low in their standards, concerning the latest leader-in-trainer you have.”

            “Just because I was once Abnegation, that doesn’t mean that I’m weak,” I insist. “I’ve worked hard to pass initiation. It takes determination and dedication to pass initiation.”

            “Well said,” says Veronica. “Hard times make one stronger as well.”

            Cedric merely glowers. “The fact remains, when one is born in their faction of origin, they remain the way they started even after you transfer.”

            “No, the mentality one acquires from their faction of origin is molded into new form when they transfer,” Eric argues. “They still have some of that mentality that they acquired from childhood, but it’s remolded once they integrate into their faction of choice.”

            “Now, now,” says Jeanine. “Debating will only waste time.”

            Looking between the two, I decide that silence is preferable, as I don’t want to get caught between an argument between father and son.

            The Abnegation councilmembers serve themselves breakfast once Jack Kang arrives with someone from Candor; probably because they want a mediator due to the tension between Abnegation and Erudite.

            Once I finish with breakfast, I push my plate away and leave the table, intent on going to the bathroom. There I can think for a bit in silence before the meeting starts in twenty minutes. Entering the women’s room, I see that my hands are shaking when I open the nearest stall.

            I’m guessing that I am nervous from being around my former faction as a full-fledged Dauntless member, and anxious since this is my first meeting of this nature. I fear that I might explode into tears by the end of this, and hopefully Eric is the only witness to that, as he’ll provide a shoulder to cry on.

            He’s not insensitive to my emotions as he is with others. He doesn’t condemn me for acting human. He reserves that tenderness for me.

            I try to clear my head of it as I go into the bathroom stall.

 

* * *

 

            When I enter back into the dining hall, looking forward to be back at Eric’s side, Marcus approaches me as I pass the table he is occupying. I tense up, remembering the report against him.

            “Could I have a word with you, Beatrice?” he asks. “I promise that you did nothing wrong.”

            I look back at the table where the Erudite leaders and the Dauntless leaders occupy, and watch Eric’s apprehensive expression. I try to tell with him with my facial expression that I have no clue what Marcus wants before unwillingly following him to a corner of the room.

            “How have you been, Beatrice?” he asks.

            “Good,” I say, folding my arms. “Dauntless initiation was rough, but I passed with no difficulty.”

            “Good,” he says, nodding. “Have you encountered Tobias, by any chance?”

            Is that why he pulled me over here: to ask about his son, who he abused? Marcus probably wants to make sure that my mind has not been “poisoned” by that “slanderous” report.

            “I met him right when I stepped into the Dauntless compound, but I didn’t know it was him right away,” I answer. I see that Eric has left the table and is standing a few feet behind Marcus. He is probably curious why Marcus wants to speak with me and it’s probably making him uncomfortable as well.

            “He probably goes by a different name, like most of those hellions do,” Marcus scoffs. “Have you heard anything relating to that report against me?”

            I pause, wondering what to say before saying, “Well, a fellow initiate showed me the report hoping to get a rise from me about Abnegation, but I didn’t believe it.”

            That was a complete lie. I should have said the truth: that Eric showed me the report and gave me good insight about the qualities of an abuser, but by doing that, I’m afraid that Marcus would lump me with the other Dauntless. That I have gone to the dark side and I don’t want my former faction to think badly of me.

            Marcus looks relieved. “Whatever you heard, Beatrice, those are just false allegations and preposterous falsehoods only used by Jeanine to discredit us. Yes, Tobias and I had our disagreements at times, but I would never physically abuse him, let alone strike him with a belt. Nor would I hurt Evelyn. What the Erudite accuse me of goes against the Abnegation teachings.”

            _But you did it anyway_ , I think scathingly. “Well, I know that you would never do that,” I say. “Things can be misread. He could be thrashing at night because of the initiation training.

            “What I think is that Tobias probably wanted attention and a pity-party, and told that friend of his to make that comment about him thrashing at night,” he says.

            I taste bile in my throat at that accusation. Tobias would never ever do anything for attention, and he and Eric were far from friends. Eric must be within earshot, because he looks like someone insulted him.

            “From what I got, Eric and Tobias hate each other,” I say. “They don’t appear to act like friends.”

            But I doubt that Marcus would change his opinion. I was relieved when he released me and I walked back to the table with Eric.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

            The meeting room has two long tables on tiers at the south of the room where a circular, long panel faces it, with a podium in front of it. The walls are made from the same material as that in the auditorium where the Choosing Ceremony takes place every year. Slowly, the councilmembers file into their seats at the tiered panel while we file into our seats at the panel facing them. I find my seat between Eric and Jackie, and sit down. In front of me is a notebook and pen.

            Looking at the panel of Abnegation councilmembers before us, it feels like I’m in court. Sweat collects in my palms, and my mouth feels dry.

            “We will be going over matters that affect the system as a whole,” Marcus announces. “Either by suggesting to bring back old practices or suggesting new ones, that could benefit the city in many ways.”

            I glance over at the Erudite leaders, who are whispering to each other. I wonder what they will present to the Abnegation council. No doubt, they will jump to disagree with it.

            “When one makes their idea known, someone from another faction can either make an interjection, agreeing or disagreeing with the matter presented,” says Marcus. Fortunately, I’m allowed to do that. “Let’s begin with what the Amity would like to say.”

            Good. At least whatever tension which might come will be delayed for now, since Amity also has ties with the Abnegation.

            As what might be usual, Johanna makes a point about the food distribution system, saying that they should go by population rather than alphabetical order; that the faction with the most members should get the most food, though technically Amity will still get first choice because they harvest the crops.

            “…and of course, some extra could be given to the Abnegation when it comes to supplying food for the factionless.”

            I bite the end of my pen as I watch Johanna speak, only taking notes when necessary. From my peripheral vision, I see the three Erudite leaders whispering to each other before seeing Jeanine opening her briefcase and whipping something out.

            “You think Jeanine might sabotage this?” I ask Eric.

            “She wouldn’t jeopardize with her ties with Amity, though she might disagree about the Abnegation getting extra food,” he says.

            “Having the factionless starve is barbaric,” I hiss quietly. Not to mention it violates the Abnegation manifesto.

            “The way Jeanine sees it, the factionless are a strain to the resources,” he says.

            I sit back in my seat, exhaling heavily. Yes, we have to stretch resources but we also can’t let the factionless starve.

            “Does anyone have objections to the suggestion about the food distribution?” asks Marcus.

            Fortunately, Jeanine doesn’t say anything or raise any objections. I guess she doesn’t want to jeopardize her ties with Amity. However, she’s pursing her lips.

            “Well then,” says Marcus. “Since Candor is saving their inquiries for last, we’ll begin with the Dauntless.”

            One thing I do know, is that the Dauntless are interested in having patrols to the factionless again. The leaders have been talking about it for the past month, since there is apparently a homicide rate in the factionless population. Even if they form their own communities, squalid conditions lead to desperation and desperation can cause people to act in ways that they wouldn’t in normal circumstances.

            I expect for Max to get up, since he’s the main leader of the five, but Eric gets up instead. Probably because of his Erudite background, he’ll be more diplomatic and calm. When Eric reaches the podium, I see discontent on some of the councilmembers faces. Since Eric was appointed since seventeen, they’ve probably seen him before and I guess they don’t like the way he probably carries himself in these meetings.

            “I guess this would require both Erudite and Dauntless opinion, unless I’m mistaken,” says Marcus.

            “Mainly Dauntless, though we regularly receive figures from Erudite on occasion,” says Eric smoothly. “To you, it would be taxing because you two have been at odds since the beginning of the faction system, however, it would be unfair to not count them in as well.”

            In those sentences, I now understand why the councilmembers don’t like hearing him speak. The way he holds himself and his sentence structure is reminiscent of Erudite: he’s more educated then the Dauntless and speaks smoothly. His overall tough appearance doesn’t fool them.

            “Do you have those figures?” asks Marcus.

            “In fact I do.” Eric takes out a piece of paper from one of his bottom pockets and unfolds it. He clears his throat. “During the time period when the factionless sector was patrolled by Dauntless members, the homicide rate among the factionless was a mere eighteen percent.”

            I hear mutters among the councilmembers after they heard the fact before Eric speaks again. “Then, five years ago, you made the decision to pull the Dauntless out of the factionless sector, under the basis that they need help rather than policing, and that they were interfering with charitable practices, is that correct?”

            “That is correct,” says father. “There were also reports that some the Dauntless were treating the factionless rather poorly.”

            “Most likely they were not educated properly how to handle their job,” says Eric. “The rules weren’t too rigid anyway when I examined them either. That most likely was the problem. Now, five years after the removal, the homicide rate has risen to sixty-six percent.”

            The Abnegation panel bursts into incensed muttering and whispering, like they don’t believe what they just heard. “Most likely those figures were exaggerated,” says Marcus.

            “Exaggerated? These figures cover the five years after the Dauntless were pulled from the factionless sector,” says Eric, looking nonplussed. “Have you not made the decision to pull them out, they would still have the protection to prevent the figures from rising and if it is true, would have prevented any unpleasant encounters with the factionless.”

            Like my encounter after I took the aptitude test. I raise my hand just as Marcus begins to speak. Eric turns to look at me. “It appears our leader-in-training has something to say about this matter,” he says.

            “We’ll be interested with what she wants to say,” says Marcus, appearing hopeful, like I might disagree with Eric. “Do you have anything to say relating to those so-called statistics he presented?”

            “I do.” I jump from my seat and I stride to the podium. Eric only moves a little so I can stand behind the podium. “However, the Erudite don’t exaggerate nor do they falsify statistics to suit their agenda. Let’s say an Abnegation girl is walking down the factionless sector after taking her aptitude test. She comes across a factionless man. What does she do?”

            “Give food to him,” says father, looking scandalized. Must be because I said that the Erudite don’t exaggerate or falsify statistics. “Abnegation dependents must carry some food for situations like that.”

            I nod. “She pulls out dried apple slices and while she’s in the process of giving them to him, he grabs her wrist tightly in a vice grip and makes some creepy comment about her eyes before commenting about her age in the same creepy manner before letting her go and taking the apple slices.”

            I hear murmuring and muttering among the councilmembers. Marcus looks skeptical of what I said. So does father.

            “What is the source of your hypothetical claim?” asks Marcus.

            “Hypothetical?” I demand, feeling the blood reaching my face and neck. “This actually happened to me. I didn’t want to take the bus because I was sick from the aptitude test, so I decided to walk home. I did what I was trained to do. I offered him food because he asked for something to eat. Had there been someone there, he wouldn’t made a grab for my wrist or if he did, someone would have pried his fingers off my wrist. During that moment I was thinking about ways to get out of there.”

            It’s like the Choosing Ceremony once Caleb decided to leave Abnegation for Erudite, only they sound surprised and confused instead of angry and appalled. Father’s skeptical expression turns into a dumbfounded and surprised one; he’s lost for words.

            “I acknowledge that I shouldn’t make mention of my faction of origin, but I thought to make the topic relevant with my own experiences,” I continue. “Yes, the factionless need help, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t need policing. By not giving them policing, you are denying them protection from acts caused by desperation and preventing them from making similar encounters. Those that pushed for their removal should have thought about that before making the final decision but hindsight is twenty/twenty.”

            I remove my hand from the edge of the podium and return to my seat, feeling my hands shake. I look at the paper in front of me, not wanting to look at my father. There is no muttering. Just complete silence.

            “As she said, the Erudite don’t falsify statistics nor exaggerate them,” says Eric. “She made a point: that encounter could have been avoided had you not decided to pull the Dauntless from the factionless sector. As I said, had they have not been removed, the homicide rates among the factionless wouldn’t be at the percentage that it is now.”

            I hear a silent pause before Marcus says warily, “What do you propose, exactly?”

            “To return the practice of patrols in the factionless sector,” Eric answers smoothly. “The regulations that the patrollers will follow will be structured and rigid then it was before. We will make sure that they will not interfere with the Abnegation handing them food and that their practices are completely humane.”

            Eric sounds so slick that if I didn’t know him, that I wouldn’t have trusted him. But I do know him. The Abnegation panel talks among themselves, like they are wondering what to make of it. Unfortunately, they probably see it as too good to be true, though hopefully, my intake should sway them.

            “Does anyone else have anything to say?” asks Marcus.

            Again, nothing from Erudite; I guess that they want to appear civil, as to not tarnish their image.

            “We will consider your proposal,” says Marcus stiffly.

            Eric curtly nods before withdrawing from the platform and returning to his seat between me and Max.

            “Now, let’s see what the Erudite have to offer,” says Marcus.

            Great. This was what I was dreading, since Jeanine might sabotage anything that was probably presented. She would do that.

            She picks up what she took out from her briefcase and approaches the podium, looking poised and professional. The Abnegation councilmembers appear wary when they see her stand behind the podium. Like me, they too have a bad feeling about this.          

            “It would seem that the reports are creating a rift between us,” says Jeanine. “Rest assured, that the reporters behave independently, and I apologize for the grievances that some members of Erudite have caused.”

            She’s lying. Of course she would. Denying any involvements in the reports would be the first thing she would do when approached by the Abnegation. She was probably actively involved in creating the report against Marcus, which turned out to be true.

            Which begs this question: if the report against Marcus Eaton is true, how many of those reports are true?

            “I merely want to raise the issue about the education given to dependents,” Jeanine starts.

            Education. It would make sense, since most of the teachers come from Erudite.

            The councilmembers don’t say anything, so Jeanine opens a binder and puts on glasses. Jeanine doesn’t wear glasses all the time, so she probably only wears them when appropriate or maybe she can’t read without her glasses.

            “These are standardized test scores according to faction,” she announces before reading. “For Abnegation, the overall score is seventy-five percent; for Amity, the overall score is sixty-three; Candor’s is eighty-three percent; for Dauntless, the overall score is forty percent; finally for Erudite, the overall score stands at ninety percent.”

            It shouldn’t surprise me that Erudite dependents have very high test scores, nor should it surprise me that Dauntless dependents have very low test scores. I’m positive that Erudite has an after school study program for its dependents, which is why their test scores are high.

            “The question is this,” Jeanine starts, taking off her glasses and setting the binder down, “what are we doing wrong here? Having good marks in school is not exclusive to Erudite.”

            “We are afraid that what you might suggest would violate individual faction customs,” says Marcus, “except for your faction.”

            “You do remember that these are dependents, not strictly members of a faction,” Jeanine points out. “Yes, dependents should follow the customs of their factions, however, that shouldn’t prevent them from being proficient in their studies. Erudite has an after school study program where the dependents are given one-on-one attention.”

            I knew it.

            “Are you proposing that the other factions should have the same program?” asks Mr. Black, like the idea was ludicrous.

            “Of course, that way it would prevent low test scores,” says Jeanine.

            “You do realize that as a result, it will seed knowledge into the minds of vulnerable children, and knowledge often leads people to darker places,” says father.

            “This program only accommodates the grade level and their school subject,” says Jeanine. “It is the choice of the dependent if they want to study advanced topics. We can’t force things one might hardly comprehend on them.”

            Eric slaps his hand on the table and stands up. “On the topic of knowledge, it’s a three way street. It depends on who has it. Either one uses it for the benefit for others or they use it for nefarious purposes or the individual is in the grey area.”

            “There is no grey area,” Marcus argues. “Anyone with good morality would know that.”

            “How is belting your son good morality?” Eric points out.

            “Why you…?” said Marcus as the Abnegation panel erupts in outrage and anger, not to mention everyone else but Johanna bursts in conversation.

            “He didn’t…?” asks Veronica, appearing dumbfounded and she looks at Eric with irritation.

            The Candor man sitting next to Jack stands up. “There will be order,” he says. The room falls silent. Eric sits back down, though from the side, Jeanine looks triumphant, like she is pleased at Eric’s jab directed at Marcus.

            “If each faction had a similar program, there would be a rise of test scores,” says Jeanine. “One-on-one attention is imperative to the student.”

            “I wouldn’t have to go after the Dauntless dependents either anymore if they allow this,” Eric says to me in a whisper. “They cause less trouble when doing homework.”

            As promising as Jeanine’s proposal is, I doubt that the Abnegation will accept it. Everything we propose has to be thoroughly evaluated by the council, as they have the final say. I thought it was a good thing, but now being leader-in-training for another faction, it makes me nervous. Most of the Abnegation voted to remove Dauntless guards from the factionless sector, my father being one of those actively pushing for their removal. The vote could easily end up the same way.

            However, changes have happened over those years.

            Even Jeanine looks doubtful as she returns to her seat behind the panel. As much as I despise her for what she is doing, at least she was pressing for something good.

            When Jack Kang issues his proposal about regulations for attorneys and judges, I tune everything else out.

 

* * *

 

            When we leave the Hub, it’s rainy heavily now compared to the morning drizzle. Even in this rain, we are running towards the rails that are elevated. I just focus how the feet pound in the puddles as I run, trying to delay the tears that threaten to erupt from me.

            Just like after the Choosing Ceremony, I climb the beams that support the tracks. The rain makes the metal slippery, so I cautiously climb up like the last time until my feet find the edge of the railing.

            “About time,” says Ross as we hear the train horn. We turn to see the train approaching, looking almost unnoticeable in the rain. Once it reaches us,   we run down the ledge and Eric grabs the handle, throwing the door open before going into the train car.

            I follow, grabbing the door handle and hoisting myself inside. I walk over to the other side of the car and stand against the wall, sliding down until I’m in sitting position.

            Then, I can’t hold it in anymore. I let the floodgates open and my body shakes with sobs from all the stress I kept inside.

            “Oh brother,” says Jackie in annoyance. “You’re Dauntless. You should know better not to cry.”

            “Shut up, Jackie,” Eric snaps. “She’s just releasing pent up stress.” I hear his footsteps and he sits beside me. “Are you okay?”

            I wipe my nose with my sleeve. “It’s just that…it’s my first meeting of this nature. I was shaking beforehand from nervousness.”

            “Hey, it’s only natural,” assures Veronica. “Besides, I thought you did very well.”

            “Yeah,” says Max. “I thought that you did an excellent job for your first time, especially when you decided to speak up on the factionless sector.”

            “Being that this was your first meeting involving other factions, one was bound to become nervous,” Eric assures me.

            I’m relieved that I have the support of the five leaders, well most of them, since Jackie is giving me a look like I made a fool of myself. She never liked the fact that I am replacing her anyway once she joins the factionless.

            The train slows down and we jump off onto the roof I jumped onto with the other initiates after the Choosing Ceremony, when a Dauntless girl fell to her death. The thought still makes me shudder.

            I land on my feet on the gravel surface this time and I’m not nervously wondering what awaits me this time.

            A hand touches my shoulder and I turn to see Max.

            “Take the rest of the day off,” he says. “That way you can rest your mind.”

            I need it, after this stressful morning, especially after being in the same room with my father without acknowledging him. He’s going to think that I was angry with him.

            I don’t want him to think that, though he might think it was because he put his job first during Visiting Day because he didn’t want to see his daughter as one of those “Hellions.”


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

Since I have the rest of the day to myself, I decide to do the laundry. I take the laundry hamper in the bathroom, and grab the detergent and fabric softer from the cabinet by the door before going down to the public laundry room on our floor in the Pit. Each of the apartment floors has one. The apartment section in the underground compound has one too.

            No one is in the room when I enter, though I sign my name and the apartment number on the log before going over to our designated washing machine. I decide to do Eric’s clothes first, since he doesn’t have much that needs to be cleaned.

            I pour the detergent in the tab before turning on the machine, letting it run before I put in the clothes. Even though he keeps nothing in his pockets and side panels, I check them anyway to make sure that nothing important is there before tossing them in the machine.

            I close the lid and put the hamper in the safe next to it, locking it before activating the buzzer that connects to the apartment. While his clothes are washing I decide on cleaning the apartment, starting with the bathroom first. It wasn’t unusual to clean a dwelling, as we would take turns cleaning the house back in Abnegation, just like cooking meals.

            It’s odd how Eric and I do the same thing: taking turns when it comes to preparing meals, though most of the time we work together. We’ve relegated ourselves to domestics, as couples do when doing nothing else.

            Once the shower was finished, I proceed with the toilet, making sure that it isn’t yellow with rust and the remnants of bathroom trips. Every time I scrub, I feel like the remainder of my stress is evaporating from me.

            Cleaning helps, as does taking it all out on a punching bag.

            When I’m finished with the toilet, I hear the laundry buzzer from the kitchen, and I wash my hands before going to the laundry room to dry his clothes.

 

* * *

 

            “How was that important meeting that you had to partake in?” asks Christina at the beginning of lunch.

            “Good, though I wouldn’t have been so nervous if I wasn’t Abnegation,” I answer, cutting up my steak. “I broke down crying from all the stress afterwards.”

            “The others probably didn’t like that,” says Christina.

            “Jackie didn’t,” I reply. “Eric understood why I broke down, and Veronica and Max didn’t seem to be upset about it.”

            “Strange, considering that he seems like the first person who will condemn you for it,” says Christina, raising her eyebrow.

            “They are boyfriend and girlfriend,” says Lynn, as she sits down. She rolls her eyes. “It would be out of place for him to have her stifle them.”

            “So, what did you do after that?” asks Will once Tobias and two of his friends join us at the table.

            “I did some laundry and cleaned up the apartment,” I say. “Not that it was a mess, but it’s good to clean it anyway.”

            “You are just as bad as Four,” says Zeke, smiling. “He keeps his apartment clean. Too clean, that is, and what I heard from Jocelyn, Eric is a certified neat-freak.”

            “When you put a former Stiff and former Nose together, you get that result,” says Jocelyn as she and Sean sit down. Jocelyn turns her face towards me. “How did that meeting go, Tris?”

            “Not too bad,” I answer.

            “Do you think that they might put the Dauntless back at the factionless sector?” asks Shauna. “That was what some guys at the fence were talking about.”

            Tobias tenses, like the prospect of the Dauntless returning to the factionless sector unsettles him for some reason.

            “That depends whether the council approves it or not,” says Eric as he sits down. “That’s what’s frustrating about our government: the Abnegation have the final say. Not that I hate them, but we wouldn’t have to wait a week for the verdict if all the factions had a final say in what happens.”

            “Hopefully, they don’t let it pass,” says Tobias.

            “The homicide rate among them currently stands at sixty-six percent,” says Eric stiffly. “If they don’t approve of it, it will grow to another ten.”

            “Besides, it’s not like you were grabbed by the wrist after your aptitude test,” I point out.

            Tobias doesn’t say anything about that. “Did you see Marcus?”

            “Yeah, and he’s denying that he abused his son,” I say. “What’s worse is that he accused him of lying about it because he wanted attention and a pity-party.”

            Tobias’s fork misses his peas, and instead they touch the tabletop. He looks like he is suppressing fury at this pronouncement.

            “I mean, who would lie about that?” asks Christina, looking incredulous. “No one really lies about being abused.”

            “That is the common defense of the abuser: that the victim is lying,” says Eric. “In cases of intimate partner violence, they make excuses for the injury or they blame the victim for provoking the violence.”

            “Don’t forget, that a minority think that you’re beating her,” says Shauna, gesturing to me.

            “The only foundation that rumor has is my reputation,” Eric points out, looking flustered. “I’m astonished that it hasn’t spread like wildfire considering my status.”

            “It didn’t spread like wildfire because it’s weak and flimsy,” says Jocelyn. “I talked to Tori about it and she doesn’t believe it, since one has to exhibit the classical signs.”

            “Exactly,” says Eric. “One of the indictors is a drop of self-esteem.”

            “One of the reasons why it’s flimsy is because you taught Tris self-defense during initiation,” says Will. “An abuser wouldn’t do that beforehand.”

            “Hey, changing the subject, up for partying tonight?” asks Uriah.

            “Yeah, and come into the control room drunk the next morning?” Tobias retorts.

            “I don’t work until tomorrow afternoon,” Uriah replies. “Besides, there will be fizzy drinks for those that work in the morning, like these guys.”

            “That is an Erudite specialty, right?” asks Christina, raising her eyebrow.

            “They have fizzy drinks here, too,” Will quips. “What, were you blind?”

            “In that case, I’m drinking a fizzy drink because I refuse to come to leadership training drunk,” I say.

 

* * *

 

            After lunch, I mop the floor in the apartment, as it was the last thing to do in the apartment in terms of cleaning. I start from the kitchen and end at the bathroom.

            When that was done, I decide to go one of the training rooms to throw knives before I can buy something to wear tonight.

            My feet echo off the concrete as I walk down the corridors towards the training room. Along the way, I see Peter with a few Dauntless; probably some members of technical support. When I pass them, I hear him whisper something and the girl next to him scowls at me.

            I look at them with indifference before continuing my way. I guess that Peter is recruiting new lackeys since Drew and Molly have failed initiation. However, I have nothing to worry about since I’ll be a Dauntless leader soon.

            Pushing the door open, I step inside to see that Tobias is throwing knives. I watch as he throws them: rigid and releasing his breath every time he throws them.

            “Here to vent?” I ask.

            He turns at the sound of my voice and relaxes immediately when he sees me. “What made it obvious?”

            “Well, you didn’t look too happy when I said that your father accused you of making the abuse up,” I answer, cautiously taking a step towards him.

            “I didn’t surprise me that he would do that in defense, but it made me angry anyway to hear that.” Tobias throws another knife. “It doesn’t surprise me to that he’ll take such lengths to protect his reputation.”

            “If my parents knew that I was with Eric, they would just hear about his reputation and they’ll tell me to end the relationship.” I snort. “Marcus is so influential that they’ll never believe what he did.”

            “Yeah, everything goes fine for Marcus,” says Tobias. “For me when I was back there, not so much.”

I notice how Tobias always refers to his father as ‘Marcus’, and he never refers to him as his father. I guess that abuse severs ties between the victim and the perpetrator, and I understand why. I would cut my parents from my life if they did the same thing to me and Caleb, but they didn’t.

“Speaking of Eric, he actually thinks that the two of you are friends,” I say. “Merely because Eric made that comment in that report.”

Tobias looks just as insulted as Eric did this morning. “Insinuating that we’re friends is the worst insult imaginable.”

“Eric was within earshot and he looked just as insulted,” I tell him.

“Trust me, the odds of us becoming friends is from slim to none,” says Tobias. “The thought of the two of us being friends makes me want to vomit.”

They might not become friends, but there is no denying that if something happens, they will be forced to work together even if they don’t like it.

 

* * *

 

At the clothing place, I manage to find a black, leather skirt and a black top with sleeves made of fishnets and to compliment them: black, knee-high boots and tights. Later when I put them on, I realize that they might look risqué for wear.

But then again I was born in Abnegation and used to hiding skin.

I’m finished applying eyeliner on when I hear the bathroom door open and Eric comes in. Who else?

He gazes at the outfit I’m wearing. He looks at me with admiration, though his eyes glow with lust, something that would have freaked me out if I didn’t know and wasn’t involved with him.

“Look at you,” he says, putting his arms around my torso. “You look attractive and sexy.”

“Is this too revealing, though?” I ask him, looking at his grey eyes in the mirror.

“Revealing?” he asks, like the question was an idiotic one. “It’s not like you’re just in your underwear. You look just fine.”

“Sorry, it’s just that this Abnegation mentality is partially engrained in my brain,” I say, watching as he moves my hair from my shoulder and inhales the amber musk perform that I had sprayed on me before applying the eyeliner.

“We still need to work on that,” he says, lifting his face to look at my reflection. He steps back, still looking at my reflection. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I say, turning my body towards him. “Do you know where Uriah lives with his brother?”

“Only two floors above us,” he says.

“I thought that only those with government jobs lived up in the Pire,” I say, frowning.

“That only became a requirement three years ago,” he says, “so they still live there because there was no previous requirement about living up here.”

Well, that explains it then.

 

* * *

 

Eric said that not all the apartments here are laid out the same, and seeing the Pedrad apartment, it’s an understatement. The kitchen was at the right corner south of the door and there was a small living room which you walk into when entering the apartment. There is a small hallway at the left corner, leading to a bathroom and two bedrooms.

We were among the first ones to arrive and immediately, Uriah claps his hand to mine as I walk in with Eric.

“Excellent that you dropped by,” he says, wearing a toothy grin. “For a moment, I was wondering if you changed your mind.”

“I’m not stiff all the time,” I say, grinning myself.

Eric chuckles behind me. “Did I just hear you make a joke, Tris? Or is ‘Stiff’ appropriate?”

“Shut it.” I elbow him in the ribs, still grinning.

“I’m surprised that this asshole showed up,” says Zeke. “I thought that you didn’t like parties, being the uptight Nose you are.”

“That doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t engage in some fun,” Eric replies, smirking. “So, what do you guys got?”

One of the things that they have was a collapsible ping pong table, though Zeke and Uriah say something about playing something called “beer pong” with it. However, there is a deck of cards lying on the coffee table, and playing cards are a more suitable option then this beer pong.

“You don’t want to play it,” says Lynn, as she sets the cards up for a game of Go Fish. “It’s a one way ticket to alcohol poisoning.”

“Nor do I understand its popularity here,” says Eric, setting down a plastic cup with a clear liquid, with bubbles on the inside of the cup. “It’s just an excuse to binge drink.”

I pick up the cup and cautiously sip the contents. The flavor is lemon but the carbonation makes it taste disgusting. I wrinkle my nose in disgust as I set it down.

“Why do the Erudite love this stuff?” I ask.

“It’s because it has caffeine, and the Erudite like caffeine,” says Eric.

That would explain it.

So, the five of us – Eric, Lynn, Marlene, Uriah, and I – continue to play cards, and I’m dimly aware of the apartment filling up, though it’s only indictor is that some more people join the card game, prominently Tobias, Will, Christina, Shauna, Jocelyn, and Sean. Another indicator of the party’s progression is the smoky haze in the room and the accumulated conversation, and I thought I see some people playing beer pong.

When the guys decide to play blackjack, I see a face that I didn’t want to be there. Uriah notices too.

“That pansycake wasn’t invited,” says Uriah, scowling at Peter.

“He probably overheard our conversation before dinner,” says Christina, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Predictable, as Dauntless tend to gate crash to parties that they are not invited to,” says Jocelyn.

After ten minutes, Eric withdraws from the game and joins me and the other onlookers – Tobias, Marlene, and Lynn – as the others continue to play.

“…what did I say about talking with other guys, huh?” I hear a guy ask someone in a very angry manner.

I look around and see a Dauntless guy in front of an Dauntless girl as they stand in an empty corner by the kitchen. The way they are holding their bodies – he is towering over her while she is basically cowering – is not a good sign. The fear on her face is noticeable.

“Please, he’s just a friend,” she begs. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“You think I’m stupid, Sasha?” he demands.

Apparently, I’m not the only one that notices. Eric is looking at the scene with apprehension and Tobias looks very uncomfortable before I see him blank out. Jocelyn and Sean stop playing and watch with concern; likewise with Christina and Will.

“I know that smile, so I’m not stupid,” he says, jabbing his finger to her chest. “You like him, don’t you?”

“He’s just a friend,” Sasha insists, looking like she is on the verge of tears. “Besides, he’s dating Amber.”

“I told you I wasn’t stupid,” he demands.

“Calm down, Terry,” she begs.

“I’ll give you ‘calm down’.” His hand shoots out and the slap is heard from where I’m standing. Tobias snaps out of his haze and he, Eric, Sean, Jocelyn, and Shauna rush to the scene. I watch as they pull the couple apart and I go a little closer to see what’s going on.

Tobias, Sean, Jocelyn, and Shauna talk to Sasha while Eric confronts her boyfriend.

“That is my girlfriend. My woman,” Terry argues. “You have no business in our relationship.”

“It becomes my business when you begin beating her publicly,” Eric points out. “In fact, it becomes _everyone’s_ business when you do it.”

“It’s none of your business.” Terry shoves Eric’s chest with his hands. “Besides, you probably do the same thing to your girlfriend over there.”

The shove and the insinuation that he abuses me did it. Eric’s fist shoots out and it connects to the guy’s jaw, knocking him to the ground. Everyone in the room stops what they are doing and watch.

Eric then proceeds punching him in the ribs.

“How do you like it? Do you like getting it handed to you?” Eric taunts as he proceeds punching him in the face. I look to see Peter back away before leaving the apartment.

“Stop! Stop it!” Terry begs, curling up and putting his arms out in defeat.

Eric stops then, but scowls at the man cowering on the floor. “I doubt you’ll learn your lesson, but that should give you a taste of what it’s like to be beaten up. There is only one word for strong men who beat women and that’s coward.”

 

* * *

 

While the abusive boyfriend was taken to the infirmary, Tobias, Zeke, and Shauna took Sasha back to her apartment. When they came back, they looked troubled.

“She kept defending that prick along the way,” says Shauna. “‘He just had too much to drink’, ‘he is going to apologize’. It’s not okay if he slaps her for talking with another guy.”

“She is trapped, Shauna,” says Tobias. “People are conditioned to accept the abuse during the cycle.”

I wonder if that’s what he learned during his childhood.

“He’s pathetic too,” says Eric. “He accused me of doing the same thing to Tris. Why would I abuse her if I taught her everything I know about self-defense?”

“Ironically, Terry is one of the people who think that you abuse your girlfriend,” says Zeke.

Eric’s expression changes. It’s like he’s trying to suppress fury and anger. “Trying to deflect the guilt onto me, is he? He’ll be lucky that I didn’t put him in the infirmary for a week.”

We both return to our apartment that night and as I crawl into the bed with him, he says, “Remember this: I will never do anything to hurt you. This may sound corny, but you are one of the important aspects of my life and don’t allow anyone to think otherwise. Understand?”

I nod and reply, “Yes, I understand.”

 


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

The incident at the party spread like wildfire the next morning, that during breakfast, boys no older than he is scurry away when they see him walk by. Eric doesn’t seem very troubled by it. He smirks like he’s pleased with himself.

            “That should send boys a message that they shouldn’t hit their girlfriends,” says Eric, “not to mention that they shouldn’t cross me the wrong way.”

            During breakfast, I hear that the abusive boyfriend is still in the infirmary after last night’s beating. As the conversation wears on, I hear from Zeke that Terry is his occasional drinking buddy as well.

            “I don’t know if I should be surprised at his behavior,” says Zeke. “One time he asked me if it bothered me that Shauna talks to other guys aside from me.”

            “Only a controlling asshole would have it bother him, and you hardly qualify,” Shauna says to him.

            “Care to look at the intimate partner violence statistics?” asks Eric. “The figures in Dauntless wouldn’t surprise you.”

            I hate to look at them myself. Dauntless is a faction which involves physical fighting during initiation, and since they go against cowardice and that there are Dauntless who see crying as weak, I wouldn’t be surprised if there are more incidences of violence directed at a partner here in Dauntless then in Abnegation.

            Marcus beat his wife and son, so I wonder if Marcus himself was raised in a similar environment. Even if Marcus was an abuser by default, that doesn’t excuse his actions for what he did to his wife and son.

            After breakfast, Eric and I go to the offices by the conference room and Veronica steps out of hers. “Look, here comes the guy who sent an abusive boyfriend to the infirmary.”

            “He wouldn’t have gotten the shit beaten out of him if he didn’t shove me and insinuated that I did the same the Tris,” Eric replies, scowling.

            “Well, you may not be the most honorable individual, but I wouldn’t complain about sending abusive partners to the hospital,” says Veronica.

            “He deserved any minute of it,” Eric replies.

            “Now, the two of you better get to work,” says Veronica before nodding towards me. “She especially needs to get caught up.”

            She disappears behind her office door, and Eric and I go to the temp office near the conference room. “None of it was too big, I wager,” I said as he closes the door behind him.

            “You just had to look at computer programs and do memos,” says Eric. “Fortunately those memos are not due until two days.”

            I shrug off my jacket and place it on my chair before sitting down in front of the computer which was recently added to my office. “I couldn’t do it yesterday because Max gave me the rest of the day off because of that meeting in the Hub.”

            “You’ll have time to complete your other projects,” he replies. “They are not time consuming as far as I know.”

            “Good to know,” I say grinning. “Now go wherever you have to be before the two of us get into trouble.”

            He chuckles as he exits the room. Now that Eric is gone, I can concentrate on what I’m doing. I turn on the computer and log into my account. When the screen pops up in front of me, I open the program for word documents with a tap of my computer.

            The memo that I’m writing out is for the control room operators about maintenance time and what to do with the computer feeds before the technical support could perform the technical maintenance.

            I open the memo template and write down who it’s from, who it’s to and the subject before writing the memo out. I keep it to the point, five sentences long which is the required minimum. I have seen Eric’s memos, and it’s pretty obvious looking at them that he was Erudite, considering that they are drawn out and detailed; basically almost twenty sentences long, one sentence exceeding the nineteen sentences maximum requirement.

            Guess being Dauntless hasn’t made him stop liking detail. I know that it annoys Veronica, but it doesn’t annoy me. Probably because I live with him.

            Once I am finished with I memo, I have sent it to the control room operators. Then, I exit out of that program and open up the Currency Tracking Program to clean out any errors in the code. This was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

            Once I have caught up with the work from yesterday, I go over to Veronica’s office to get papers. She was currently absent, but the papers were already on the table, with a note saying _Take these up to technical support._

            The technical support room is up in the twelfth floor, just two floors above. There is the chance that I might encounter Peter, but I don’t care. I will not give him the satisfaction that he wants.

            I pick up the papers and exit Veronica’s office, closing it with one of my feet so that the papers don’t drop from my hands.

            Fortunately, I was the only one in the elevator as it made the trip up two floors up. There is no need to worry about bumping into someone and risking having these documents fall in the crevice between the elevator and the twelfth floor.

            The doors slide open and I go down the corridor, following the directory to technical support. I just turn one corridor and there is a metal door at the end of the hallway. There is no need to knock, as I just push my back into the door opening it before turning around.

            There are rows of computers; most of them on, and in the middle of the room are a counter with technical equipment strewn on it. I observe Will and another Dauntless girl working on a camera, taking it apart. Will smiles at me and waves.

            Lauren, who’s standing behind a computer at the front row, looks up and goes over to me. She turns the piercing in her lip, looking at the pile in my hands.

            “Paperwork from the leaders’ offices?” she asks.

            “Yeah. They wanted me to send them up here,” I reply.

            “Thanks,” she says, taking the pile from my hands and putting them on the counter in the middle of the room. She bends over and opens a filing cabinet, taking out a file. From my peripheral vision, I see Peter glare at me.

            I ignore him as Lauren hands me the file. “Send these to the leaders please.”

            I nod before hurrying out of the technical support room, making sure that I get into the elevator in time before Peter decides to jump me under the guise of going on a bathroom break. Not that I’m afraid of him. It’s just that I don’t want to waste my time with him.

 

* * *

 

            I knock on Eric’s office door, knowing that he might be in there right now.

            “Come in,” he snaps. Oh. Something has set him off. What doesn’t?

            I open the door and walk in. Eric looks up from his computer and his hard gaze softens when he sees me. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes. “I thought that was someone trying to waste my time with something stupid.”

            “We don’t have x-ray vision,” I say, sitting on the edge of his desk before handing in the file. “This is from technical support.”

            He takes the folder from my hand. “Thanks for that. I shall fax this to the other leaders.”

            “Well, I’ll leave you to it then,” I say. “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

            “Oh, you’re far from distracting,” Eric replies, smirking seductively at me.

            I giggle as I hop from his desk and approach the door to his office. “I’m not so sure about that. Now get back to work.”

            He chuckles and I hear him say, “Cheeky Stiff” when I close the door behind me. I grin as I walk from his office to the temporary office, intent on doing the next thing on my list, which is looking at the results from the recent control room feeds.

 

* * *

* * *

 

            “Then these dependents started going crazy over droplets of rain,” says Shauna as she was talking about the end of her shift at the fence today during lunch. “I can’t wait until January starts and these kids will go back to school.”

            “We were all dependents at some point, Shauna,” says Zeke just as Uriah sits down.

            “Besides, I’m here,” says Hector, looking annoyed before returning to his meal.

            “Oh, you’re only three years away until you choose, Hec” Lynn replies.

            “And I don’t have to worry,” says Hector. “I’m only thirteen.”

            “Be careful, because time grows faster when you’re older,” says Eric, looking amused. “Before you know it, those years will fly by.”

            “Don’t rush it!” Hector complains. “I’m only thirteen.”

            “I’m eighteen, and at that age time flies,” says Eric. “The aptitude test will come to you before you know it.”

            Hector rolls his eyes before resuming to eat his lunch.

            “Anything new in that boring leadership training?” asks Christina with apparent interest.

            “It isn’t boring,” I answer. “There is nothing boring about doing paperwork, memos, and fixing the computer programs.”

            “Then you should be at Erudite then,” says Will, grinning broadly. “The people there have to do that sort of stuff too.”

            It would have been funny had I not received Erudite as an aptitude. I’m relieved that my friends are ignorant of the fact that I’m Divergent. Eric knows, but I haven’t told him what aptitude I tested.

            I’m sure he got an idea what I tested for, especially after capture the flag and that knife throwing, where I took Al’s place.

            Al. Just thinking about him makes my heart heavy. Though, Eric said that forgiving him wouldn’t have changed anything.

            “So, who is betting for snow tomorrow?” asks Zeke, that playful glint in his eyes.

            Lynn drops her fork and puts her face in her hands. “It’s only in the middle of October, _Ezekiel_.”

            “We are supposed to get eight inches,” says Zeke, looking hopeful.

            Tobias shakes his head. “If you plan on having an epic snowball fight, I can’t participate. I have work to do.”

            “I’m game,” says Eric, grinning in anticipation.

            “You’re going to turn this into capture the flag?” Lynn raises her eyebrow. “Your team is going to consist of bulky Dauntless members?”

            “Strength is vital in throwing snowballs,” says Eric. “I just wouldn’t invite the ones who’ll insert pebbles in them, like Peter.”

            “He might gate crash,” says Jocelyn, “but we’ll throw him out if he does.”

 

* * *

 

            Being that I’m leader-in-training, I’m dismissed from work early. When I arrive at the apartment, I kick my shoes off and decide to make the bed. I tighten the corners of the bed and fluff the pillows, pulling the duvet over them before leaving the room.

            Knowing our ritual, I open the jar holding the tea packets and boil the water in the kettle, hoping that it will get done before he gets here. While the tea is brewing, I go over to the living area and pick up the book on the coffee table before sitting down with it.

            Usually, my mind doesn’t tend to wander when I’m reading, but right now, for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to be skin to skin with Eric. We’ve been together for only about two months but we’ve danced around having sex when we’re alone.

            I’m now no stranger to making out with him and we’ve seen each other without clothing a few times. That’s what happens when you live with someone who you’re not married to.

            The Abnegation preach chastity and purity before marriage. In Dauntless, couples make out in the open and it’s no lie that having sex before marriage is most likely the norm here. The former Abnegation girl that was me would still cringe at that thought.

            Yet, I understand that curiosity; the curiosity to explore your body and others’ in a sensual way. I have felt that curiosity in my lips and my hands but I haven’t gone all the way. I haven’t experienced sex but I don’t know about Eric. He’s probably been with few other girls besides me, considering his age, not that it bothers me.

            I try to push that aside when I hear the kettle blow. I stand up and go to the kitchen, removing the tea kettle from the burner. When I approach the cupboard for the mugs, I hear the door open.

            “How was the remainder of your day?” I ask, placing the mugs on the counter.

            “Slightly taxing,” he answers. Did he get into a disagreement with Tobias or did something happen that wasn’t to his liking? Knowing Eric, it wouldn’t surprise me.

            “Hopefully you vented before coming here,” I say, pouring tea into the first mug.

            “I did, but I know how to relieve the rest of the tension,” he says. Before I could pour tea into the second mug, I feel his arm wrap around my abdomen and his nose nuzzles into my hair before kissing down my neck.

            I feel that he is hard against my back. I know what he wants. It’s what I want too.

            “How hungry are you?” I ask him, curiously.

            “I think I could go without food for an hour,” he whispers into my shoulder, confirming my thoughts.


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

            At that, he spins me around and crushes his lips onto mine. I put my hands on his shoulders as my back hits the refrigerator.

            The kiss is rough and possessive, like he wants to drink me in and claim me. I know what this means: he’s in control of the situation.

            He pulls his lips away from mine but our faces are a mere two inches.

            “Do you want the bed or will the couch do?” he asks suggestively.

            If we do it on the couch, there is chance that someone could knock and walk in on us. The bed is much more preferable.

            “The bed,” I answer.

            “Wise choice,” he replies before lifting me up and I wrap my legs around his hips. When he’s kissing me, it’s like the top row of his teeth are lightly biting my bottom lip. I guess he likes it rough at times.

            My back hits the bedroom door and he propels me in, nearly tossing me on the bed. I giggle like a maniac, my hair splayed out beneath my head.

            He hovers on top of me, kissing me roughly as he places his hands on my hips, like he’s keeping me in place on the bed. His lips leave mine and begin kissing my jaw line, his fingertips moving to the hem of my black shirt.

            In the middle of kissing down my neck, he moves the shirt up to the ribcage and I raise my hands to let him remove it from my body. Once I was removed of my shirt, he resumes kissing down my neck and then his lips travel to the side of my collarbone.

            He hesitates before lightly kissing the three ravens that I acquired on my chest during my first week here.

            My hands find the buttons on his vest and I begin unsnapping them; I sit up when I push the vest from his shoulders. As soon as it joined my shirt on the floor, Eric puts his hands behind my back and he unclips my bra and removes it from my body.

            When I remove him of his shirt, he pins me back to the bed again, claiming dominance as he roughly kisses me and digging his fingernails into the side of my breast.

            Both of his hands travel to my pants and I hear him unzip them before he pushes them down my legs along with my underwear, leaving me completely naked. I fumble as I unzip his fly and I push down his pants along with his boxers. At that moment, I see the size of his package.

            He’s not big to tear me open, but he’s big enough that I feel my eyes go wide.

            Now we’re completely undressed; I feel him spread by legs apart and he inserts a finger into me and I gasp in ecstasy, trying to contain myself.

            “Nice and wet,” he says, rubbing his finger on my thigh. He forcefully grabs my hips and I feel the tip of his member touches the tender folds of my entrance.

            He kisses me on the lips and looks at me in the eye. “Are you sure about this?”

            We’re already skin to skin and he’s ready to enter me, so there is no point going back.

            “Yeah, I’m sure,” I reply.

When he enters me, I gasp from the force of the thrust and I put my hands on his shoulders, digging my fingernails into his flesh. I decide to keep my eyes shut when the thrusting begins.

            He threads his fingers into my hair, twinning and pulling at it as he continues to thrust into me. I raise my hips and he wraps my leg around his waist with one hand before wrapping my other leg.

            I now see why wrapping my legs around his waist is important: that way he can penetrate deeper.

            “Tris.” He lightly nips my left earlobe. “How fast do you want me to go?”

            “Not just faster,” I snap. “I want you to go harder too.”

            Maybe I shouldn’t be so masochistic in my first time, but I’m Dauntless. I shouldn’t have to fear anything from this.

            He pauses before continuing to work over me, going slightly faster and harder than before. I plunge the back of my head into the pillow, gasping from the pleasure that I’m experiencing.

            From my limited knowledge of sex, it shouldn’t surprise that it would result in perspiration, since we’re practically physically exerting ourselves.

            His lips travel from my mouth down my neck to the valley of my breasts before he moves them over to the center of my left breast, putting my nipple in his mouth. I arch my back, closing my eyes. Yeah, he definitely was in relationships before me.

            I put my arm around my neck and keep my eyes closed, trying to lose myself in the pleasure.

            I start to feel warm down there and it’s like the beating of my heart increases pace. I curl my toes and I hold my breath, my body tensing under his.

            When I can’t control my breath anymore, I scream in ecstasy, and I feel warm spurts of liquid fill me to the last drop.

            We collapse, our legs tangled together on the black duvet. I feel warm and I lie down with my eyes closed as he strokes my hair.

            “Too much for your first time?” he asks huskily.

            I open my eyes and turn my head to meet his face. “Not bad. How did your first time go?”

            “What gave that away?” he asks, tracing patterns on my bare abdomen.

            “You acted like you did it before, because your hands were experienced.” I fully turn my body towards him. “Not that I have any judgments against you.”

            “There was this girl who was a Dauntless-born initiate at the same time that I was a transfer,” he says. “We both were inexperienced.” He smiles at the memory.

            “How long did that relationship last?” I ask.

            “Just for seven months,” he says. “It’s awkward for us to be on speaking terms.”

            I chuckle. “I never had sex before, but I read a book about sexual reproduction one time. ‘The Talk’ didn’t answer all my questions.”

            “So, you just weren’t experienced in sex,” he replies.

            “I had to sate my curiosity,” I reply. “I’m not the sheltered Abnegation girl that people would think I am.”

            “Then you’re not as stiff as I thought you initially were,” he says with an amused smirk.

            I hit him in the arm, giggling.

            We both put our clothes back on and before I go into the kitchen to resume dinner, I pull the duvet off the bed due to the mess we made due to our lovemaking.

            I’m going to have to wash it sometime.

 

* * *

 

            The ground must have frozen overnight, because the first thing I saw when I wake up is the presence of frost on the window and that there are snow flurries. Looking down, I saw that there was snow on the ground.

            “Zeke was right about snow, but I doubt its deep enough for what he has planned,” says Eric.

            I hope it wasn’t eight inches because I have to go on overview patrols at the fence with Eric this morning after breakfast. I do not want to come in Dauntless headquarters with my boots caked in snow. I remember when I tracked in snow into the house back in Abnegation and I had to clean it up.

            “You might want to take gloves with you,” says Eric when we were finished with breakfast and while I’m cleaning the bowls. “It might be nippy out.”

            “How many pairs of gloves do you have?” I ask.

            He checks his watch. “We got twenty minutes until we’re supposed to go out. The clothing place is selling winter gear.”

            Of course and I was so caught up with training that I forgot to. Hopefully they were not picked over.

            The heat is cranked up in the Pire, as well as the Pit, though the water from the chasm made things slightly colder than it was. The clothing store wasn’t busy, but the winter gear was easy to spot. I pick up two pairs of gloves, thermal socks, boots, and a coat; with the addition of thermal underwear.

            I hurried to the apartment with my purchases and change into the snow boots before getting into the coat. When I put on my mittens and he prepared, we both left the apartment.

 

* * *

 

            Going outside, my worst fears were confirmed. As soon as I set my foot outside, I lift my left foot and I see that the sole is covered in snow.

            “Great,” I sigh.

            “Don’t worry,” Eric assures me. “It’s supposed to all melt by tomorrow morning.”

            It’s not like I hate snow. It’s just that I’m mentally prepared for snow. The two of us get into the waiting armored truck, which is toasty warm inside. Eric slides the door shut and I feel the truck roar to life.

            “After this, I might eat something warm like soup,” I tell him, as the truck begins moving.

            “Try some chili,” he says, sitting down next to me. “It will warm you up.”

            Chili. I never had that, but the dependents from other factions did.

            “Doesn’t soup warm you up too?” I ask.

            “The only time I had soup was when I was sick,” Eric says. “Mother would make garlic and kale soup during my sick days.”

            “My mother would give me and my brother chicken noodle soup,” I say smiling. “Only when we were sick.”

            “Speaking of being sick, the worst cold I received was when I was ten,” he says. “I couldn’t go to school for a week.”

            “I had viral pneumonia,” I admit. “I spent that entire time in bed while my parents gave me food and medicine.”

            “That sounds even more terrible,” says Eric, like he can’t contain his laughter. “Being stuck in bed all day.”

            I hit him in the arm, laughing. “Now don’t poke at my suffering.”

            “Just making a comment, Tris,” he says with the amusement still there. “No harm intended.”

            I giggled, leaning against the steel wall to support myself. If someone else hit him or teased him like this, he would knock them out until next Tuesday. He’ll only allow me and his friends to do that.

            The wheels of the truck bump over the snow and it slows before it stops. We both get out into the nippy weather and I pull my gloves to the sleeves of my coat as not to get any colder.

            “We’re not going to the Outer Limits of the patrols, are we?” I ask him as we trudge in the eight inches of snow.

            “No, not today,” says Eric. “I even doubt that the Amity will be even outside in this weather.”

            I sigh in relief. The thermometer in our apartment said it was thirty degrees. Not too cold but cold enough to get pneumonia in. Acquiring pneumonia during training wouldn’t be such a good idea.

            I gripped the rails as I followed him up the stairs, trying not to slip from the snow, as I didn’t want to fall ten feet and break a bone or worse. I wasn’t clumsy but I didn’t want that risk. Relief fills me when I reach the top of the fence.

            Looking at the other side of the fence, I see almost no activity in the Amity compound, except for a snow plow.

            “Anything unusual, this week, though I highly doubt it,” I hear Eric say.

            “Nothing to report,” says a Dauntless man with a graying beard.

            “Though he thought he saw something glinting in the sky,” says Shauna in annoyance.

            The Dauntless man glares at her and Shauna rolls her eyes.

            _“Headset EM 569745 do you copy? Headset EM 569745 do you copy?”_ I hear from Eric’s headset.

Eric sighs in exasperation and picks up his headset. “Yeah?”

_“Jeanine Matthews is here. She’s wondering if Tris will learn how to look through simulation data.”_

Oh, that simulation program. I should have known that Jeanine would come here to see how I would learn how to use it. No wonder the leaders didn’t teach me to use it yet.

“We’re doing an overview patrol at the fence,” says Eric irritably. “Can it wait?”

I hear static in the pause before I hear Veronica say, _“Yes, she is willing to wait.”_

“Good,” he says. “We’ll get there as soon as we get done. Out.”

He turns off his headset and mutters, “Shit. This is going to ruin everything.”

Not to mention change the schedule for the tasks I have to undergo. Jackie wouldn’t be so pleased if I gave her that data about the control room feed one hour late. That will only add on to the pile of things that would consider me unworthy for Dauntless leadership.

Walking around the perimeter of the fence, I begin to feel anxious. I would rather catch pneumonia out in this cold then meet with Jeanine Matthews. Just seeing her reminds me that she has a vice grip on my faction

I keep my hands in my pockets, even though they are gloved to protect them from the cold. It’s not long until Eric updates the log, completing it with his electronic signature. “Okay. Let’s leave before we get sick.”

Being ill is a welcoming alternative compared to seeing Jeanine Matthews.

 

* * *

 

“Your cheeks are rosy,” he notes as soon as we enter the Pire.

“That’s because we were outside in thirty degree weather,” I say, though his comments make me blush even more.

“Blood reaches the surface of the skin when exposed to the cold,” he says.

Though everyone knows that, it fascinates me when Eric speaks like an Erudite at times.

Since our apartment is on the third floor, we quickly removed our outside winter gear and put on our other boots before going up to the tenth floor where Jeanine was most likely waiting with Max. What makes me nervous is that this tutorial involves looking for those that are considered Divergent.

“Where are they waiting?” I ask Eric.

“In the conference room,” he answers promptly.

That probably means that she brought people with her; Erudite head scientists most likely, since the simulation program is also the thing that they specialize in.

Eric knocks on the door twice and Veronica opens it, enabling us to enter.

“…otherwise, everything is shipshape,” I hear Max saying as we walk in. I stop in my tracks after seeing who occupies the conference table.

While three of the five Dauntless leaders sit at one end, Jeanine and six other people sit at the other. Jeanine appears placid, though five of the six appear dour faced and sour. They probably didn’t like postponing things just to wait for a Dauntless leader and a leader-in-training finish the overview patrol at the fence.

Among the six people is Caleb, who looks nervous. What’s he doing here? Probably because he future profession involves serums and the Dauntless simulation program.

I quickly look away from him to pay attention to Jeanine.

“I apologize for the wait, Ms. Matthews,” says Eric smoothly.

“It’s alright,” Jeanine replies. “We took the time explaining a new member of Dr. King’s department how this trip works. I assume that you had a run in with him during your last visit.”

“Indeed I did,” says Eric, glaring at Caleb.

“Caleb, this is Eric Matheson,” introduces Jeanine. “He’s one of the five Dauntless leaders.”

Caleb analyzes Eric, looking rather skeptical. I expect him to ask how a eighteen year old that he’s a faction leader but he doesn’t ask to my surprise.

“Eric, this is Caleb Prior,” Jeanine continues. “He’ll be learning about inter-faction relations between Erudite and Dauntless work.”

“Prior. Why does the last name ring a bell?” asks Eric.

At first, I fear that people would connect the dots that Caleb and I are siblings, not that I don’t like him. However, Caleb interprets it differently. “The Prior name has history in Erudite, unless you were referring to that report that was released last month, it wasn’t true. That individual probably had some vendetta against her for something.”

Molly did have a vendetta but what gets me is that Caleb said something about the Priors having history in Erudite. Our family didn’t have history in Erudite, did they? Then again mother and father didn’t share anything about their childhoods. One is not supposed to if they transferred into another faction.

“That report seemed redundant,” says Eric, breaking me out of my reverie. “The opinion of just one person does not make it true.”

“Well said, Eric,” says Jeanine, smiling coolly, though I detect malice in her eyes. “Anyway, we must not dawdle.”

Max stands up and begins leading us out of the room, though Eric and I come out last, leaving the other three leaders behind in the conference room.


	30. Chapter Thirty

            We take the elevators down to the first floor of the Pire, but when we reach the hole in the center of the room that leads down to the Pit, Max goes down first.

            “Make sure you watch your step,” says Eric. “One misstep leads to certain death.”

            I watch as Caleb peers down the whole and his eyes widen in horror before looking at me in surprise. He’s probably wondering why I’m still alive after all this time.

            “Wait, these stairs don’t have rails?” he asks, not bothering to hide the horror in his voice. “What if one of us falls?”

            “We’re Dauntless,” says Eric, like Caleb is an idiot for asking. “We don’t need stair railings.”

            Caleb looks at Eric with a mortified expression on his face before looking down at the hole. I guess he’s thinking of possible ways to get down there without hurting himself, not that I blame him. I was mortified myself when I saw that there were no rails when I first entered here.

            I turn around and go down the stairs, placing my hand on one step and my foot on the other, as I don’t want to worry Caleb. I tighten my grip on the stairs, that way I don’t accidentally stumble and fall.

            After I reach the cement floor of the Pit, Eric goes down the stairwell, without hassle and drops down to the ground when close enough to it.

            I’m surprised that Jeanine has little trouble going down, but then again, she’s probably been here many times. Caleb cautiously goes down the stairwell, climbing down the same way I did, but he looks back down every few seconds. I know what he must be thinking: he probably wonders why the Dauntless have long lifespans for living in such a dangerous environment.

            He looks relieved when his feet reach the floor and stands next to Jeanine, avoiding looking at me completely. I could say that he sucked-up to her, but I don’t belong in his faction to know. Who am I to judge?

            Once the last Erudite has reached the Pit, we continue on to our destination, though Caleb is looking around the Pit, analyzing it with the curiosity of a typical Erudite. He pauses to gaze at the chasm when Eric bumps into him.

            “You’re not here for sightseeing,” Eric tells him flippantly, not hesitating sending him daggers.

            I glare at Eric with a side glance. There was no need to be hostile to my brother.

            Caleb backs away from Eric before catching up with his faction leader. Whether Eric likes intimidating Caleb or not, still, that was unnecessary on his part.

            We follow Max, Jeanine, Caleb, and Jeanine’s team of Erudite scientists through the Pit. Due to the presence of people in Erudite blue, it causes some of the Dauntless at the Pit to stop and stare at our direction.

            Blue would naturally stand out in an area with dim lighting as black would stand out in broad daylight, but I guess that some of those in Dauntless know what Erudite scientists coming here means: the presence of Erudite means that they might be looking for Divergents.

            We exit out of the Pit and travel to the corridor near the transfer initiates’ dormitory. How glad I am that I don’t have to sleep there again, especially after what happened during initiation.

            We turn the corner and I see a steel-trap door at the end of the hallway, with two Dauntless guards guarding it. I start to wonder what it is when one of them puts his hand on a latch and moves it up before putting his handle on the door to open it.

            When he slides it open, Max and Jeanine are the first to enter the room, following Caleb and Jeanine’s team of scientists, and then Eric and I follow them in. As I enter the room, I see that it’s dimly lit, though the only light in the room is the computer servers.

            When all of us are in, the door slides shut and I hear the latch come down, locking us in. Caleb jumps at that sound, looking nervous like it’s something new he doesn’t quite know about.

            “If they lock us in, how will we get out?” he asks, turning his wide eyes to Eric.

            “We knock after we are done,” says Eric, smirking at Caleb’s apparent nervousness. “You like to make things complicated, do you?”

            Caleb opens his mouth to speak –

            “You also have that tendency, Eric,” I point out to him. “Now, don’t you forget it.”

            “Only it’s not the simple things,” he defends.

            I hear someone clear their throat and we turn to see Jeanine standing by a computer that’s on, the light casting a shadow on her blue dress. “Now, before we get started, I would like to explain to those that are training in their respective professions the purpose of this visit. Before that, I would like to ask them some questions to see if they know.”

            She turns her attention to Caleb. “Mr. Prior, why do Erudite and Dauntless have inter-faction relations?”

            “Erudite specializes in creating and enhancing a variety of serums,” Caleb answers promptly. “One of these is the fear serum, which creates simulated realities based on that individual’s fear. It’s connected to a software program for which we send updates to this faction’s technical support.”

            It’s as if he recited it from a textbook. Perhaps he did learn it from a book or he’s parroting information that he heard from somewhere, which is possible; my selfless brother, reciting known information like an Erudite. At this moment, I see that he fits among them so well. He belongs there, not Abnegation.

            Condemning him and lumping him with Erudite like Jeanine was a selfish decision on my part. I think again about those books he probably hid in the gaps in every corner of this room, this time, without anger and surprise.

            He’s still my brother, no matter what faction he chose.

            Jeanine assesses him like he’s her prized pupil in Upper Levels and smiles. “That is correct, Mr. Prior, and intricately worded. Being from Abnegation doesn’t prevent one for being willing to learn, does it?”

            The five scientists chuckle, though Caleb doesn’t. He looks as if Jeanine made an unnecessary jab at him.

            “No offense for your old faction, of course. Someone born from Abnegation who transfers into Erudite turn out to be wise with the knowledge they acquire and they are not pretentious as those who originate from Candor,” she explains.

            Though it’s most likely true that the Erudite who originate from Abnegation use their knowledge in ways that are not corrupt and selfish, most likely Jeanine is just saying it to bolster the lie that she holds nothing against the Abnegation, while in fact, she is probably behind every antagonistic report created to undermine us.

            She turns her eyes towards me. “Do you know the definition of a Divergent, Ms. Prior?”

            Oh, she probably thinks I was told by Eric or Max about its definition when in fact Tori told me what it was after she informed me that my results were inconclusive. I clear my throat. “A Divergent is an individual who displays more than one aptitude when it comes to testing what faction they fit into. They may exhibit behaviors for more than one faction if something were to happen which would cause them to react. However, it’s more obvious when you connect them to wires and put them under a simulation. It’s programmed so one doesn’t know that they are under the simulation but someone with Divergence knows that what they are experiencing isn’t real and they may try to manipulate the outcome of the simulation, even shutting it down at.”

            Jeanine looks exceptionally pleased by my drawn-out explanation though her scientists mutter curiously. Caleb looks at me with an incredulous expression, like he’s wondering how I know everything about this. Looking towards Eric, he looks quite unreadable, but in his eyes, it’s like he’s asking a million questions to me. He knows I didn’t learn something from my leadership training so far, but is probably wondering where I got some of that information.

            _Later_ , I think as Jeanine grabs our attention again.

            “That is correct,” she says. “A Divergent is an individual who doesn’t fit into a category. The aptitude test is programmed to rule out four of the factions at its conclusion, however, if only three are ruled out, and then there is a problem we are facing.”

            If only three are ruled out. I guess Jeanine never really thought of a possibility where only two factions are ruled out. In an Erudite’s perspective, having aptitude for three factions is farfetched coming to think of it.

            “When one doesn’t fit into a category, then they are wired to approach things differently when faced with a matter,” Jeanine continues. “For example, when confronted with violence or insults, a Dauntless member might react calmly to it, which is an Erudite trait. As unique as it sounds, it’s dangerous.”

            “I apologize, Ms. Matthews, but why is Divergence considered dangerous, especially if they are trying not to hurt anyone?” asks Caleb, like he’s confused.

            “The brilliance of the faction system,” she begins, “is the conformity of the faction removes the threat of anyone exercising their own independent will. This is what allows us to live in peace. Divergents threaten that system, as their minds work in millions of ways.”

            Oh, so it’s the conformity that’s being threatened. That makes sense. Caleb still looks confused, even after Jeanine’s explanation.

            “There are only two ways to spot a Divergent,” says Jeanine. “The first way is to look for any behavioral traits that do not conform to the faction and the second way is to examine the simulation footage for signs of simulation awareness. Since it is a herculean effort to look for the former” – for a moment I thought I see Jeanine glance at Eric, who looks apathetic – “we usually perform the latter, and today, I’ll show how it’s done.”

            She returns her gaze to Eric. “Bring up the list of simulations from the initiation three years prior.”

            Eric immediately gets to work. I go over and stand behind him as he logs into the system and pulls up the simulation program. “To work this program takes expertise with computers and programming.”

            “I know how to operate a computer,” says Caleb.

            “Computer literacy is required for every faction,” Eric replies. “You don’t have to be born in Erudite to operate one.” Eric turns to the screen in front of him. “Out of eighteen simulations of that year, three were unrecorded. Of the three individuals, one was found in the bottom of the chasm the day after it was discovered that his third fear simulation was not recorded. Witnesses said he pitched himself over.”

            Pitched himself over. Or was he actually murdered for being Divergent.

            “Now, does your new member need hands on training how this process works?” Eric asks Jeanine about Caleb.

            “He can watch,” says Jeanine. “Since the leader-in-training here hasn’t obviously been taught this process, she’ll learn.”

            “Tris it is then.” Eric gets up from his seat so I can sit in it. When I sit down behind the computer, Eric stands close behind me, his face practically hovering over my shoulder.

            “Now this is subject A,” he says, tapping something on the keyboard.

In front of me a log of information comes up, listing all the simulation time and an option to view the footage. The only one that doesn’t have that option is the sixth one on the list, and it’s labeled in red, meaning that it isn’t recorded.

“Now, when you see the red line, you flag the file and remove it from the queue,” Eric instructs me.

He points to the down arrow and I click on it, where it reveals an array of options of what to do with the defunct file. As he said, I click the button to flag the file and a white textbox appears. In it, I type _the third simulation, dated 9/18 from three years ago, has been failed to be recorded_.

I press the enter key. Now, I select the option to remove the file from the queue. It asks me if I was sure to remove it from the list before I click the tile with the word ‘yes’.

“That was proficient for the first time,” I hear Eric say from behind me. “Now, I’m sure you can do the other two without me walking you through it.

I go back to the menu displaying the list of initiates from three years before. There are only three names with asterisks next to them, so I proceed to click on the second name with that asterisk. Caleb pulls up a chair and sits down, like he wants to watch me do the process by myself.

Or maybe he thinks he could offer me assistance if the task would be proved too difficult.

For the second individual, I do the same thing as I did the first time, and it doesn’t take quite as long to do the last one on the list.

“Excellent.” Eric claps me hard on the shoulder. “All you needed was to be walked through it once.”

I look at Jeanine to see what her reaction is. She’s not smiling, but it’s like she’s assessing the situation in her head. Perhaps this was not such a good idea to perform proficiently in a fast pace especially if I was under scrutiny during my initiation.

“Well, Mr. Prior, did you learn anything?” Jeanine asks Caleb, like she is speaking to a prized pupil in her class. Perhaps Caleb was her favorite out of all the Erudite initiates.

“Yes, but perhaps I could try it for myself so I wouldn’t make any errors,” Caleb replies promptly.

 

* * *

 

When we were done looking through files of simulations, we walk down the same path we came through.

When the Erudite leave the compound altogether, it’s like my head finally clears, though it aches to see Caleb go. He may have chosen the faction were raised to hate but he’s still my brother.

Before I could go into the temporary office to get things around before my lunch period, I hear Eric say behind me, “Mind if I talk to you?”

I turn to look at him. “I’m going to my office. We can talk there.”

He gives me an austere expression. “No, because there will be cameras.”

Oh, I know what he wants to ask me about now. It’s about the information I acquired about Divergence.

“Will the custodial closet do?” I ask him.

“Yeah, that will be more preferable,” he answers.

The custodial closet is not far from where we’re standing. It’s at the end of the corridor. It’s a small room containing cleaning materials, which is usual. Eric turns on the light and puts the water bucket under the doorknob to keep it shut.

“Now, who was it that told you that Divergents can also manipulate a simulation to the point of shutting it down?” he asks, his voice full of curiosity.

Though Eric was placed here to actually hunt down Divergents, I know can trust him. “The individual who administered my aptitude test is from here. She told me that bit of information right after my second fear simulation.”

“Being that there was only one Dauntless that administered aptitude tests that day, that would have had to have been Tori Wu,” says Eric, lacing his fingers together. “I ‘m surprised that she didn’t get caught for telling you that.”

“She made sure that no one was listening,” I say, before I added. “She was even afraid of someone could been eavesdropping when she broke the news to me.”

“Since her brother was killed and I heard that it was speculated that he was a Divergent, that shouldn’t surprise me that she was trying to protect you.”

I gap at him. “How did you know about that? It happened when you were still in Erudite as a dependent.”

“One tends to learn things when training under leadership,” says Eric. “What was odd was that Max saw nothing unusual in George Wu’s simulation when he administered it, so if he was Divergent, he probably pretended to be unaware just to protect himself, so Max believed it to be suicide.”

I don’t want to discount Tori’s word, but what if it wasn’t actually murder like she thought? What if it was suicide and the previous instructors were baffled when Max declared it unusual?

Eric checks his watch. “I’ll discuss more with you later or we’ll both get into trouble.”

 

* * *

 

“Guess who I drew a tattoo on today?” asks Christina as soon as I sit down for lunch.

“What? Peter?” I ask as I reach for the ketchup to put on my hamburger.

“Exactly,” she answers, looking annoyed at that aspect. “During that entire time, he went on and on about he wanted to be leader-in-training, and about how this faction was going to the dogs with you also in charge.”

“A superiority complex I take it?” asks Jocelyn, raising her eyebrow.

“He had one even as an initiate,” says Eric, who drops into a seat next to me. “He had a complex of being first, without taking the Dauntless-born into consideration.”

“Speaking of Peter,” I hear someone say and I look to see a Dauntless girl that appeared to be one year older then me. “Are you Tris Prior?”

“Yeah,” I answer.

She bends down and whispers, “Did you hear the rumor that accused Eric of abusing you?”

I nod. “Yeah, so?”

“Well, actually Peter started it.”

I feel something explode inside me as I digest the information. I pull away and demand, “What?”

“Yeah, he started that. Earlier, he was going about how you slept your way to the top, but it seems like he was upset that no one believed him, so it’s like he started this one to hopefully get a reaction.”

I don’t listen anymore. I grab a butter knife and put it under my sleeve before scanning the cafeteria for any sign of Peter. I don’t see him sitting at any of the tables.

However, once I catch sight of him walking into the cafeteria, I dart towards his direction, the blood pounding in my ears.

When I’m close to Peter, I grab the fabric of his shirt and pull him away from the dining hall, slamming him against the wall right by the door.

“What is your problem, Stiff?” he demands with his usual indifference; like I don’t scare him.

“Don’t call me that,” I say, trying to make my voice sound low and dangerous. “I hear that you have been telling lies about Eric and me.”

Peter just laughs in my face. “Who told you that? Some moron probably told you that because they knew that you would be stupid enough to believe it.”

At that, I pull out the butter knife and point it at his right eye; right where he stabbed Edward the night Tobias released the rankings. Peter’s eyes widen and the smirk is wiped from his face.

Good.

“You know why you ranked second in stage one?” I ask. “Because you are cruel and wouldn’t hesitate beating those you deem weak into a bloody pulp. Considering your sociopathic tendencies, I’m surprised that you ranked second for stage two.”

I circle the tip of the knife around his eye, just to remind him what he did to Edward. “I handed your ass to you during stage one and hopefully you didn’t forget where I got those moves from. He beat you up too, and if you wrong me again, he wouldn’t hesitate on joining me.”

I point the knife at his mouth. “If you utter one lie about me or Eric again, I’ll cut your tongue out with this butter knife and it will be extremely painful. Understand?”

Peter’s face pales and he looks like he might wet himself.

I didn’t mean that. I wouldn’t have it in me to cut out his tongue as I’m no sadist. I just wanted to make a statement to him.

Peter just nods and when I let him go and stand back, he runs like I mouse trying to get away from the predator chasing after it.

I collect myself before putting the butter knife back into my pocket as I go back into the dining hall.


	31. Chapter Thirty One

No one commented about me going after Peter with a butter knife during the duration of lunch. Zeke was hopeful about that snowball fight early this evening. Though I’m not emotionally ready for the snow, I didn’t want to be seen as a party pooper.

            When we get back to the Pire, I see that Eric is smirking with satisfaction.

            “What?” I demand.

            “Just the look that Peter gave when he ran back into the dining hall,” he replies. “It was like he wanted to wet himself.”

            “I just wanted to give an impression,” I say, lifting one shoulder. “That he shouldn’t ruin people just because he didn’t get what he wanted.”

            “What did you threaten him with?” Eric asks with avid interest.

            “I told him that if he ever said a lie about you and me, that I was going to sever his tongue out with a butter knife,” I answer, remembering the look on his face after I made the threat. My parents would be ashamed of me, since I wasn’t raised that way.

            In retrospect, considering all the things Peter has done, I don’t even care.

            Eric chuckles and looks like it was Christmas time. “I guess I taught you exceptionally well in the art of intimidation.”

            It’s true that I subconsciously picked up things from him being that I spend so much time with him considering that we live with each other and I see him often during my training sessions. People will think that I’m becoming like him: ruthless and acts out without mercy. That I’m someone that needs to be feared.

            However, it doesn’t bother me like it should. While I don’t want my friends to fear me, being feared by those that don’t like me will show them that I’m no longer this demure and placid girl from Abnegation.

            I’m Dauntless now and I want to be respected as one. Even if it means being feared among the Dauntless.

            “Perhaps I did,” I say, smiling.

 

* * *

 

            During the afternoon, the snow turned to rain, washing away the snow. I knew how disappointed Zeke would be, since he was planning an epic snowball fight, but I was secretly relieved, since I wasn’t emotionally ready for snow.

            At least we might engage in one during December or January and by then they’ll be tons of it.

            Around six in the evening, the aroma of dinner was wafting into the Pit and when I enter the dining hall alone, people hush up and stare at me.

            Just like when Eric entered the dining hall during my first night here.

            Word about me threatening Peter must have spread like wildfire. There were witnesses, so naturally, most of the faction would know by now.

            Speaking of Peter, he gives me one look before paling. I inwardly smirk. It satisfies me that I left that impression on him.

            As soon as I get to the food line, Tobias gives me a stern look. “I heard rumors that you threatened Peter that you would sever his tongue out with a butter knife. Is that true?”

            “If he didn’t go around saying that my boyfriend was abusing me, I wouldn’t have threatened him,” I say. “Besides, he deserved it.”

            “Do you intend to?” he asks with accusation in his tone.

            “You think I would have it in me? No!” I argue. “I just wanted him to know that he shouldn’t mess with me. Or Eric.”

            “There are better, _honorable_ ways to show that you should be respected,” says Tobias. “Whether you meant it or not, people will get the wrong impression of your character and Tris, Dauntless is where reputations tend to stick.”

            The heat licks up in my throat. “This is the coward that lodged a butter knife in Edward’s eye. This is the coward who tried to throw me over the chasm when I ranked above him. He laughed in my face when I confronted him about that rumor. When I pointed the knife at him, he took me seriously.”

            “That wasn’t the right way,” Tobias criticizes.

            “Says the initiate instructor that pointed a gun at said coward for being tired with sleep during day one of training,” I point out.

            Tobias looks like he might argue until his features slightly soften, like comprehension is dawning on him.

            It wasn’t his place to criticize my decision if he’s no better than me anyway.

            “It’s not your place anyway,” I tell him. “In fact, I would rather be seen as a carbon copy of Eric then some former Stiff who’s only trying to appear tough.”

            I walk past him to get in the food line. I smelled the telltale aroma of spices and saw that the cooks down in the kitchens did in fact made chili today. People were ladling servings into metal mugs.

            I pick up a mug myself and cautiously ladle it in so I could avoid getting burns on my skin. I don’t want too much anyway, since I don’t want gas.

            I drop into a seat next to Uriah, who wrinkles his nose when looking at my meal of choice. “Doesn’t that stuff give someone gas?”

            “I’m not eating too much of it,” I say. “Because I don’t want excessive gas.”

            “Regardless, you might feel like you might want to go to the bathroom,” says Uriah.

            “Please, not while we’re eating.” Lynn rolls her eyes. “Talking about going to the bathroom is a sure way to ruin one’s appetite, Uriah.”

            I lift a spoonful of chili and cautiously take a bite. I could taste the spices though it was hot like they still had it on simmer. I quickly swallow it, though it feels like my tongue was burned.

            “Took a bite too soon?” Christina asks me.

            “Yeah,” I reply. “It’s hot.”

            “Maybe we could have some chili peppers and make it even hotter,” teases Zeke.

            “I’m not that stupid,” I retort, rolling my eyes. “One of the Amity kids tricked me into eating one several years ago when my family visited the Amity compound. It was rather unpleasant.”

            “That aside, I heard that you threatened Peter with a butter knife,” says Will.

            “I’m surprised that you didn’t stop me,” I tell them. “Otherwise Four wouldn’t have been on my case about it.”

            “Real friends let you get back at the ones that caused you grief,” Christina replies. “Did you threaten to cut his tongue out with it? That was what people have been saying.”

            I pause before I answer, “Yeah, if he kept telling lies about Eric and me. He looked like he might wet himself after I made that threat.”

            Christina and Will exchange glances before they both crack up laughing. “It’s obvious where she got that from.”

            “Yeah, Eric is totally being a bad influence,” says Christina.

            “That is not even funny,” says Tobias as he sits down next to Zeke. “She could lose her credentials because of that threat.”

            “Why didn’t you tell me that when you confronted me on that?” I demand, the blood rushing to my face. Eric sits down next to me.

            Tobias swears under his breath, like he was scolding himself.

            “No, she will not lose her credentials, Four,” Eric says to him scathingly. “It’s expected for her to assert her authority during leadership training. If she intimates and threatens during training, which proves that she is willing to assert her authority over others.”

            “Oh, so they will make her your protégé, hoping that she will turn out as vicious and ruthless as you?” demanded Tobias just as scathingly.

            Just when Eric opens his mouth to retort, Marlene shrieks in horror, dropping her mug of chili on the ground.

            “What is it?” Uriah asks her with concern.

            “I just saw a spider on the floor,” she answers her voice quivering.

            “I don’t see it now.” Uriah looks around the table.

Lynn rolls her eyes, looking irritated. “There was no need to make a scene about it, especially with Eric sitting with us.”

“You’d be surprised how many Dauntless members experience arachnophobia,” Eric replies.

“Yeah, you’d know, because you have seen initiates go through their fears for two years now,” said Christina, looking annoyed.

“Well, I was surprised that an initiate was afraid of moths,” said Eric, looking amused. “They aren’t as fearsome as spiders.”

“Shut up!” Christina yells, crumbling a muffin.

“Just don’t throw the crumbs at me,” he says.

Christina just rolls her eyes at him before continuing to eat her meal.

 

* * *

 

After dinner Eric and I return to our apartment in the Pire. I slam the door shut behind me before fixing a glare at Eric.

“Care to explain why you were intimidating my brother earlier?” I demand, raising my pierced eyebrow.

“Still attached to him after he chose another faction?” Eric asks.

“Yeah, because he’s my brother!” I shout. “I lived with him for sixteen years of my life, you asshole.”

Eric chuckles as if amused by my retort. “I don’t know what it’s like to feel that attachment to a sibling, since I was the only child. Anyway, it’s in my nature to watch people squirm.”

“You can do it to other people, but just do it with my brother, parents, and my friends,” I remind him. “That’s where I draw the line.”

“Accepted,” he says. “Your brother aside, what else did Tori tell you?”

“That Divergents have aptitude for more than one faction; that they don’t fit into any kind of category,” I say. “Of course you know that.”

“Jeanine most likely assumed that we gave you that information,” Eric replies. “Hunting down Divergents has now become a requirement for this position.”

“What?” I sputter. “I don’t want to hunt down people like me!”

“You’re going to have to do what I do,” he says. “Pretend that they are outsmarting you and that it’s like finding a needle in a haystack when it comes to looking for Divergents.”

“Eric, I know you’re intelligent, but I’m surprised that no one has caught wind of that yet,” I say. “I’m surprised that Jeanine didn’t discover that you’re avoiding your task and she has the highest IQ in Erudite.”

“You’ll be surprised how easy it is to outsmart someone like her.” Eric smirks broadly. “Manipulation requires that the victim don’t know that they are being manipulated.”

“How does one manipulate Jeanine?” I raise my eyebrow incredulously. “Will likened her to a computer memory chip.”

“You see how she manipulates and turn the tables by following her methods,” he says.

“You make things sound so easy,” I say. “An Erudite habit perhaps?”

“From what I picked up during capture the flag, you probably received an aptitude for Erudite,” he says, smirking.

“Why do you have to be so observant?” I demand out of irritation yet I felt amused.

“It’s in my nature, Tris,” he says before kissing my lips.

 

* * *

 

“Any word about whether the council has considered our request?” asks Max as the six of us sit in the conference room. It’s been a week since the meeting between the faction leaders and the Abnegation councilmembers.

It’s been a week since I faced my father since my transfer to Dauntless. Almost a week since I threatened Peter with a butter knife outside the dining hall.

“I have the paperwork right here,” says Veronica.

“Excellent,” Eric tells her. “Enlighten us.”

Veronica puts the paper in front of her and clears her throat. “Dauntless’s request to have Dauntless patrollers return to the factionless sector has been accepted, due to the troubling homicide rate among the factionless and that there is issue concerning the safety of faction members if they happen to pass through.”

Accepted? The very faction members that pulled the Dauntless out have accepted that request?

“We expect that you keep the promise that new rules and regulations would be practiced to prevent abuse of authority and disruption of Abnegation charitable practices. This will go into effect next spring and one Dauntless leader should be in charge of how the rules are enforced and regulated.”

Veronica sets down the paper and says, “Something convinced them and I doubt it was one of us sprouting out statistics.”

She gives Eric a pointed glance, who just shrugs indifferently.

“Probably Tris convinced them, since she originated from Abnegation,” says Ross. “Being once an Abnegation dependent gave her an advantage.”

“Or it was just something she said,” Eric points out. “She pointed out she was from there, but that was only to make the topic relevant.”

“Enough with the conversation,” says Max. “We need to figure out how this will affect the patrols at the fence.”

“What we could do is remove half of the patrollers stationed at the fence and station them in the factionless sector,” says Eric. “We don’t need that many out there.”

“Especially if nothing is out there that would be threatening,” Veronica replies.

“Does anyone else agree or disagree on that?” asks Max. “Cut the numbers in half?”

Since no one spoke up, Max moves on. “Now we need to decide which of us enforces these patrol regulations.”

“How about Eric?” asks Veronica. “He technically designed what the new patrol regulations should be if this passes through the Abnegation council.”

“Unfortunately, no,” says Eric. “My job isn’t to oversee Dauntless patrols. In fact, the one who enforces these rules should have patience regarding the factionless and I don’t have that patience. This should go to Tris when she becomes appointed.”

Me? Confusion hits me at first, and I want to ask Eric why he thinks I’m cut out for this until it hits me. I was from Abnegation before choosing Dauntless. My former faction interacts with the factionless when it comes to giving them food and other necessary items. Of course I’m cut out for this.

“Will you be interested in enforcing these rules?” Max asks me.

I turn my head to look at him. “Yes. I have that patience.”

“Excellent,” he says. “You should create the regulations and hopefully they’ll be enforced next spring. We’ll give you a list of the old rules so you can see what requires changes.”

I’m not stupid but this should require some help from Eric, since I’m just a leader-in-training.

 

* * *

 

“Expect that you might be transferred to the factionless sector next spring,” I say to Shauna as soon as I sit down across from her at lunch.

She looks confused before comprehension dawns on her. “They are bringing the Dauntless back to the factionless sector?”

“Yes, and guess who’s in charge of regulating and enforcing those rules?” asks Eric.

“You, of course,” Tobias says to him scathingly.

“Still thick in the head, I see,” Eric scoffs. “I would rather oversee a bunch of sixteen year olds during initiation then be in control of these patrols and oversee them once in a while. I don’t have that patience and the experience with the factionless. Best leave that responsibility to someone from Abnegation.”

“Which narrows it to Tris,” Will figures out.

“You will be in charge of this?” asks Tobias.

“Yes, since I was from Abnegation and that my faction has experience with them,” I reply. “I have a good idea what needs to be done.”

Tobias looks deep in thought and I see that he looks unsettled.

“What is the matter?” I ask him.

“Well, from what I heard, the reason why they were pulled out was because they were interfering with what the Abnegation were doing and that they were treating the factionless poorly,” Tobias answers.

“The original Dauntless leader who was previously in charge of the patrols probably didn’t understand the purpose of the Abnegation giving the factionless food,” I say before finishing mentally, _and you learned that from someone who beat you_.

Tobias gets up. “I just need some air,” and we watch as he leaves.

“What is his problem?” asks Christina as Hector sits down with Lynn.

“Don’t ask me,” Hector answers. “I know nothing.”

Why would Tobias feel uncomfortable about the Dauntless coming back to the factionless sector? What was the reason behind it?

 

* * *

 

“Here,” says Eric, plopping a folder on my cluttered desk as I updated a computer program. “The regulations from when the Dauntless originally patrolled the factionless sector.”

I picked up the folder. “Where do they keep these?”

“There is a file room that is restricted for Dauntless leaders and those training under them,” Eric answers. “They keep files of old practices for record purposes. I spent some of my free time there after the selection process that occurred after initiation.”

“Because this place doesn’t have a library,” I deduce, opening the folder.

“Or a archives room like in Erudite headquarters,” says Eric, standing by me.

Examining the regulations for patrolling the factionless sector, I see that there was nothing about not preventing the Abnegation from doing their charitable work but it focused heavily on preventing violence from occurring and since these rules weren’t very specific, it would be easy for people to abuse their position.

“This person probably hasn’t stepped their foot in Abnegation,” I conclude. “No wonder the Abnegation councilmembers decided to pull the Dauntless out. I’m going to really have to refine and detail these regulations.”

“I’m here to help if you need it,” says Eric, heading towards the door to exit.

“Good, because I am going to need it,” I tell him.


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

            The months have seemed to pass smoothly as my training progressed. By November, my hours have extended and I began working on the weekends, carrying out the tasks I was instructed to do.

            Not that I cared, since I wanted to pass the training and Eric said that as soon as my training is completed and I’m appointed, I get that tattoo that the other Dauntless leaders have on their neck. Thing is, I don’t know how they apply it without damaging the jugular.

            In November, Christmas’s coming arrival was marked by smell and there was the aroma of gingerbread every morning. I discovered that the Dauntless cooks make gingerbread muffins during the month before and of Christmas.

            “You’ll love these,” Uriah said one afternoon as he split his in half.

            They were good, since I have never tasted gingerbread before. However, I would smell it when I would help mother bake things requiring gingerbread. Just thinking about mother makes me ache sometimes.

            I wonder how she and father are doing since Caleb left for Erudite and I left for Dauntless.

            While the Christmas décor was minimal in the Pire, I discover today when Eric and I paid a visit to Erudite, the inside of the lobby in their headquarters is decked out with garlands, red ribbons, and there is large tree with red and gold bulbs. It must have been real because I could smell the pine.

            “Jeanine actually allows decorations?” I ask in surprise.

            “She always has the lobby decked out in Christmas decorations,” Eric answers. “Other areas have minimal decorations.”

            Jeanine is the last person I expected to have Christmas decorations, considering that she was very logical. I guess that I don’t know everything about a certain individual.

            Walking down the corridors to the elevator that leads to her office, I thought I could smell the aroma of gingerbread and peppermint. Are they drinking flavored coffee or are the dependents lighting candles for a study project?

            Just as we reach the elevator, I thought I hear a small explosion from above. A few Erudite walking around us stop for a moment before they all move on.

            “What was that?” I ask Eric.

            “Some of the dependents like to experiment with chemicals and anything they can get their hands on while they are bored,” Eric answers.

            “Are the dependents allowed to use the labs?” I ask.

            “There are laboratories exclusive to faction members who majored in science during initiation, and there are laboratories that accept both dependents and faction members who majored in science,” Eric explains.

            Well, it’s not like I was born here anyway. Eric was, so of course he would know. I try to imagine him younger, wearing blue and burying his face into a book. Somehow, I can’t register that image in my mind; probably because he was Dauntless when I first met him.

            The elevator takes us to the floor where Jeanine’s office is located. From the windows of that floor, one could see the snow falling delicately from the opaline, white sky. In Dauntless, one could see that view if they lived in the Pire or worked outside while patrolling the fence.

            When we were in front of Jeanine’s office, Eric knocked on the door.

            “Come in,” Jeanine says promptly.

            Going into the office after Eric, the office has a hint of gingerbread and peppermint when one breathes in the air. Jeanine sets down her coffee cup as soon as we walk in. Her blonde hair is pulled tightly around her head like the last time I saw her.

            “I suppose you two dusted off the snow from your clothes and boots,” says Jeanine, as she cast a critical look at my outdoor boots.

            Looking down, I see that there is some snow on my boots. Looks like I didn’t completely kick the snow off my feet.

            “I apologize,” I say formally.

            “Just be relieved that your boots are not completely caked in snow,” Jeanine says. “You two have a seat.”

            We both sit in the white, leather chairs across her desk as Jeanine picks up a pewter dish with small gingerbread men on them. “Care for a cookie, you two?” Jeanine directs a cool smile at Eric. “Your mother made these.”

            Eric’s features freeze over before he looks apathetic. He shakes his head.

            “Faction before blood, I take it,” Jeanine replies. She turns to me. “Care for a cookie, Beatrice?”

            At first, I wonder whether I should take it; though if Jeanine purposely tried to make Eric uncomfortable, I shouldn’t accept her offer.

            I shake my head ‘no’.

            Jeanine sets aside the dish. “Well then. You don’t have to treat yourself. As for your visit, we will go over what we will be talking about.” She turns to Eric. “Has she learned the process of tracking and spotting Divergents?”

            “I gave her the information regarding what they are and what they do,” Eric answers. “However, Max thinks that next month is the time to train her in that area. She’s been learning about diplomacy and is formulating the rules for when the Dauntless return to the fence next spring.”

            It’s a slow process formulating the rules, since I was busy with my leadership training and Eric has been helping me with creating the new rules, making sure that they are specific and I added a penalty for interfering with the Abnegation giving food and other items.

            The penalty: return to patrolling the fence.

            As for Eric saying that he told me the basics about Divergents, I know he’s covering up the fact that Tori gave me that information.

            Jeanine nods, as if she understands. “There is no rush. I understand that the training process is grueling, especially the five day physical stage.”

            The combat training. I nearly forgot about that until Jeanine had to mention it.

            “Fortunately, there is still time for you to learn about looking for Divergents,” Jeanine continues. “Every Dauntless leader is required to turn in those that threatened to conform to the faction system. However, it’s Eric job to look for anything that doesn’t conform to the faction in terms in behavior and you will share that responsibility with him.”

            She still wants me to hunt down Divergents. How did it turn from wanting me dead to wanting me to help murder people like me? Unless she just wanted my Divergence confirmed and that’s probably why she doesn’t want me dead.

            It’s like she wants to test my usefulness.

            “I apologize, but differentiating between certain behaviors isn’t as easy as it may seem,” Eric tells her.

            “The best assignments are never easy,” Jeanine replies. “However, it’s best to stick with the transfers, since there are more likely to have Divergents among them.”

            “What about the Dauntless-born?” I ask, thinking about Uriah. “I’m sure that there is also a chance that they are also Divergent.”

            “Of course, there are Divergents among faction-born initiates,” Jeanine acknowledges. “However, we lean towards the transfers because there are more chances that they’ll be Divergents among them, especially with siblings who transfer to the same faction.”

            I think about what Tori said about her brother having an inconclusive test result. If Jeanine is correct about finding a case of Divergents among siblings, then it’s probably a good idea that I didn’t follow Caleb to Erudite. It would have put him in danger too.

            Then again, I counted out Erudite during the beginning of the Choosing Ceremony.

            “I see,” I say as I laced my fingers together.

            Jeanine stands up from her chair and approaches her filing cabinet, from where she removes a packet. The front page says **_How to detect Divergents_**.

            “I acknowledge that they’ll be teaching you the first step of detecting a Divergent in the first week of December,” says Jeanine as she hands me the packet, “though it’s always prudent to educate yourself ahead of time.”

 

* * *

 

            The snowfall increased as Eric and I approached the Pire. Fortunately it’s not heavy to where they’ll be a white out.

            By the Pire, a group of Dauntless children are throwing snowballs at each other.

            “They are enjoying the snow,” I say before we walk in the building.

            “Dauntless take advantage of the snow,” Eric says. “I’m going to ask Gus about how long these kids have been out there. Their parents wouldn’t be too pleased if they get pneumonia.”

            For me, I might serve myself hot chocolate to drink during lunch. That would warm me up.

            We kick the snow from our boots on the rug placed at the doorway. Right when I see Tobias exit the fear landscape room.

            “Still masochistic?” Eric asks him rather snidely.

            “Are you going to make sure that you two don’t track snow in?” Tobias asks.

            Eric rolls his eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re still worried about people tracking in snow. It’s not like it’s a big offense to track little snow in. It gets cleaned up.”

            Tobias doesn’t say anything. He just walks away.

            “Why is he worried about others tracking in snow?” I ask out loud.

            “Probably being a goody two-shoes,” Eric answers. “He’s always been that way. Probably an Abnegation trait.

            Or maybe it has to do with his abusive childhood. Did Marcus beat Tobias for tracking in snow? It probably is the case if Tobias is worried about others tracking in snow.

            “What did your parents do if you tracked in snow?” I ask him.

            “They would tell me to clean up what little I tracked in,” Eric says. “We had a mat where we would kick the snow from our feet.”

            If Marcus did belt his son for something so trivial, it would explain Tobias’s concern. I don’t want to ask him anyway, since I don’t want him to experience flashbacks.

            I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

 

* * *

 

            At the break room on the tenth floor, I pour myself some hot chocolate and take out a chocolate chip cookie from the communal cookie jar. I sip the rich tasting beverage from my mug as I returned to my office.

            Looking over what needs to be done, I sighed. Not too much to do; I just have to send a memo regarding the update to the beverage policy to the staff in the control room and I have to go down to the control room to make sure that the feed is behaving correctly.

            The memo doesn’t take long to type out and I send the memo to the control room staff. I finish out my hot chocolate before I go down to the control room to analyze the feed to see if it’s been behaving correctly.

            Inside the control room, there are currently five people though Tobias is absent. Uriah and Zeke are stationed opposite of each other. I guess it was done purposely because those two wouldn’t get any work done if they sit next to each other.

            “What’s up, Tris?” Zeke says as I sit down at a vacant station.

            “Just doing work for my leadership training,” I answer, logging into the system with my account. Looking up at the current footage, I see a few seconds of the factionless sector before it shows Millennium Park.

            “Well, I’ll make sure that a certain person doesn’t distract you and get you into trouble,” says Zeke with a chuckle.

            I shake my head as access the feeds.

            The first one isn’t faulty, so I rotate to the next one, which was. It just took reentering of the coordinates and screen resolution to fix it.

            I go through the camera feed but I stop when I see something: Tobias, who was carrying a small sack, standing by the train tracks, glancing at his watch. I look at the clock; it’s three thirty in the afternoon.

            I hastily pull up the train schedule panel to see that the train for three thirty-two is scheduled to go through the factionless sector and Candor. There’s nothing for him at Candor, which leaves the factionless sector.

            What’s there at the factionless sector?

            I decide to get back to work, since I don’t want to get into trouble for not doing what I was supposed to do. Though when the leaders see suspicious activity, they probably focus on that.

            I fix the feed for the camera which shows people exiting from Erudite headquarters and switch it just in time to see Tobias walking down the factionless sector.

            Anxiously, I look around the room to see that no one is watching. The supervisor is standing next to a station, talking with someone; Uriah is focused intently on whatever he’s seeing, and Eric just came in.

            I quickly turn around to see Tobias talking to a boy – who looks around my age – with a shaved head. It’s like they seen each other before. They talk for a minute before he leads Tobias into a crevice in a nearby building.

            I frown. What is Tobias doing in the factionless sector? I can’t think of any reason why he would.

            I switch out of that feed to the last one on the list just as Eric is standing over my shoulder.

            “Did you see anything suspicious?” he asks me.

            I turn my head to look at him. I could say ‘no’ and avoid trouble coming to Tobias but Eric, being the former Erudite he is, would know that I was hiding something. I look around the room and reply, “Not here, because who knows who might repeat what I say.”

 

* * *

 

            “You saw Four take the train to the factionless sector?” Eric asks me after I tell him in the privacy of our apartment.

            “Yeah,” I answer. “He was carrying a bag that looked like there were canned goods in there. I don’t know what’s there at the factionless sector that would warrant his attention.”

            Eric scratches the back of his neck. “There are possible theories why he would bother breaking the rules to see the factionless, though it’s not hard to guess which one it is.”

            “What do you think is the reason?” I ask.

            “To see his mother,” Eric deduces.

            “Evelyn Eaton is dead,” I tell him. “Marcus beat her to death from what I am concerned.”

            “Around the speculated time of her death, a mortician claimed that there was no body to prove that she died,” Eric explained. “There has to be a body to prove that someone is deceased.”

            He’s right. When we die, our bodies go to the city center to be cremated and the urn is given to the family. The urn has our names engraved as well as the symbol of our faction, two if the individual was a transfer.

            “So, if there was no body, that means she is alive?” I ask.

            “Exactly and is probably with the factionless,” Eric says. “I guess she faked her death to escape the abuse.”

            Why didn’t she take her son with her? A selfless mother who loves her son wouldn’t leave him with an abusive father. But I’m not Evelyn. I don’t know what she was thinking when she made the decision to leave. She probably wanted to take Tobias with her, but she probably feared Marcus’s wrath if she did and she probably didn’t want Tobias to live in the poverty that the factionless experience.

            She probably wanted him to escape on his accord because she knew he would. Because having him live factionless like her would have been selfish.

            “I’m going to talk to him,” I say.

            “Just make no mention that you talked to me about it,” Eric replies. “He doesn’t need to know that I suspected that he was seeing his supposed dead mother.”


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

I check the Dauntless residence database before going to the complex of apartments. Tobias’s apartment is located in the same corridor where Peter’s apartment is.

            The corridor was thankfully vacant when I walked to the door of his apartment. I take out the pin from my hair and insert it in the keyhole. Hearing it unlock, I smirk in triumph as I open the door.

            I close the door behind me before looking around my surroundings. The apartment is a one room, with a kitchen on one side and on the other side contains a living area with a twin-sized bed nestled in the corner. There is a door by the bed that probably leads to a bathroom. Aside from the spray-painted words _Fear God Alone_ on the wall, the apartment is tidy.

            Tobias was Abnegation. It said as much as to how he kept his apartment tidy.

            I sit down on the couch, waiting for him to come back. Maybe this was a bad idea, since I am here without his consent.

            The doorknob turns and he cautiously walks in, like he knows someone is in here. When he sees me, he looks at me like he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified. Did he think that Eric was waiting for him?

            “How did you let yourself in, Tris?” Tobias asks when he closes the door behind him.

            I show him my hairpin.

            “For a moment I thought that Eric was waiting for me,” says Tobias. “The Dauntless leaders each have a master key to every room in this compound.”

            “What makes you think that it was Eric?” I ask as I crossed my arms. “He doesn’t suspect you of anything as far as I’m concerned.”

            Tobias purses his lips, like he is unsure whether to tell me before he takes a deep breath. “If I tell you, will you promise not to tell Eric or anyone else?”

            “My lips will be sealed,” I tell him.

            “Well, two days after my initiation, someone broke into my apartment,” Tobias begins. “There was a coded message saying that I should meet someone where I first jumped on and I should meet this Wednesday night at two in the morning. I thought Marcus was going to meet me since he would have known these things except for when I first jumped after initiation.”

            Tobias goes on to tell me of his surprised meeting with his mother. From what he says, it was a bitter reunion because he was unhappy that she left him with Marcus. From what I sensed, Tobias was still bitter about that.

            I would be too, but one has to know what someone was thinking during that time.

            “So, she left you with Marcus?” I ask.

            “Unfortunately,” Tobias answers. “I don’t understand why she didn’t take me with her. A selfless mother who loves her son wouldn’t leave her son with an abusive father.”

            “But, Tobias, if she took you with her, you wouldn’t be here,” I tell him. “You wouldn’t have the friends you have now. Has it occurred to you that she didn’t want you to live that life and that she was probably afraid what Marcus would do if she did take you with her?”

            Tobias looks like he might argue with me before his features soften, like he is digesting every word I said. “I should have thought of it when I first reunited with her that night. I wouldn’t have been such an ass to her if I did.”

            “It was natural that you might have been upset,” I say, “but that means that you shouldn’t understand.”

            Tobias looks curious, like he’s wondering why and how I said those words. “How many factions did you get on your aptitude test?”

            I didn’t tell Eric exactly what factions I received, though he has a good idea what factions I have aptitude for. I should trust Tobias, since protecting me was his major priority during Dauntless initiation. “I received three factions.”

            “Three?” asks Tobias surprised. “That seems excessive.”

            “It has never crossed the minds of the Erudite,” I say, remembering Jeanine’s last visit to the Dauntless compound.

            “Jeanine Matthews doesn’t know, does she?” asks Tobias, like he’s hoping that I say no.

            Though it’s obvious that Jeanine suspects me of my Divergence, I shake my head ‘no’ and say, “No, she doesn’t suspect me of being Divergent.”

            It’s obvious: I was never fit for Candor.

 

* * *

 

            “What’s the idea of making gingerbread houses?” I ask Eric as I take out the gingerbread mix from the box.

            “It’s supposed to be a fun activity,” he explains. “Gets you ready for Christmas.”

            “The ruthless Dauntless leader making a gingerbread house with his girlfriend,” I say with sarcasm. “How scandalous.”

            “Now don’t go around telling anyone, Stiff,” he says with a smirk. “I need to keep that reputation.”

            I chuckle as I glanced at the ingredients and directions on the box. “We need two large eggs, one and a half cups of brown sugar, and six cups of flour…”

            However it’s hard to concentrate with Eric brushing his lips against my shoulder. I particularly don’t have any reservations about this but getting physical is not something you do when trying to prepare to make a gingerbread house.

            “Eric, there is a time for things like this and this obviously isn’t one of them,” I remind him.

            “I would like to see you sprawled across the kitchen counter,” he says. “However, if you wish, we can’t do that as of yet.”

            Sex on the kitchen countertop. As awkward and uncomfortable as it sounds, somehow the idea of it arouses me. It would messy to clean up though.

            “Right,” I say before resuming reading the instructions on the box, though his hand is resting on the curve of my waist.

            Twenty-five minutes later, I was rolling out the gingerbread dough with the rolling pin on the board when Eric comes in carrying a small sack.

            “A gingerbread house isn’t one without the gumdrops, candy canes, and peppermint pinwheels.” He sets the sack beside the rolling board.

            “How big do you want it to be?” I ask him. “I’ve seen them in varying sizes outside the Abnegation compound.

            “Not too big,” he said. “I would suggest creating a medium sized house. Mother would make the gigantic gingerbread houses for the Annual Dinner and Conference that they have in Erudite every Christmas Eve night. She probably still does.”

            “What is the Annual Dinner and Conference?” I ask him.

            “It’s where Erudite celebrates their achievements and discoveries over the year,” he explains. “The head of each department gives a presentation of what they discovered while the other faction members drink eggnog and eat. Dependents as young as twelve engage in educational activities in another room.”

            “Eggnog? I thought the Erudite were too polished and educated for alcohol,” I say, frowning.

            “They drink,” says Eric. “Only they drink the beverages that have less alcohol, like wine. They don’t drink the heavy stuff like the Dauntless do here. The eggnog in Erudite only has five percent alcohol, but drink the eggnog here and just one shot of it is enough to get a person sauced.” Eric snorts. “I think for most Dauntless, Christmas is another excuse to get drunk, aside from funerals and the initiation ceremony.”

            I think of the last time I have ever drank alcohol, which was during Al’s funeral. I try to push that out of my mind. “Then I don’t want to drink with what the Dauntless have to offer when it comes to eggnog then.”

            “Don’t worry,” he assures me. “There is also the brand with less alcohol.”

            I divide up the slabs of dough, saving one for the base of the house and as for the extra gingerbread dough, I decide to make tiny gingerbread men.

            Minutes later, I we both assemble the baked slabs of gingerbread with cream cheese icing and use the icing to attach the sweets to the house, adding the gingerbread men onto the base last.

            “I say that this is mission accomplished,” I say. “What do you think?”

            “That is an understatement,” he acknowledges.

            We both set the gingerbread house on the end table between the two bookshelves.

 

* * *

 

            “Why are you talking about making gingerbread houses?” Uriah asks Jocelyn the next morning as we sat in the dining hall for breakfast. “It’s only November. December is not until next month.”

            “November is the beginning of the Christmas season, Uriah,” Jocelyn replies as she spreads the cream cheese on her halve of her gingerbread muffin. “November is when the snow starts to fall. At this time, four of the five factions have decorated the lobbies of their headquarters with Christmas décor.”

            “You should see the library that the Erudite have for their lobby,” I say as I take a piece of bacon from Eric’s plate. “They have a real tree with golden and red bulbs in the corner and there are garlands and red ribbons on the walls.”

            “Erudite doesn’t allow pets and they celebrate Christmas?” Christina asks him. “I thought they were too logical for that sort of thing.”

            “They are not logical to the point of being scrooges,” says Will. “They have this dinner that they have on Christmas Eve night where they talk about the achievements of the year.”

            “Even in holidays, everything has to be academic oriented for them.” Lynn rolls her eyes. “It’s bad enough that we have another former Nose sitting –”

            “I wouldn’t risk it, Lynn,” Tobias interrupts. “Eric is not one that likes people to mention his former faction.”

            “I have no problem with my former faction being mentioned,” Eric says. “I just don’t like it when it’s mentioned by those who I don’t like.”

            “Question: if you two don’t like each other, why are you two sitting at the same table?” asks Christina. “You’ve been doing this since the end of initiation. Our initiation.”

            Tobias doesn’t say anything. Likewise with Eric. It probably has to do with the fact that Zeke and his friends – including Tobias – sit with Uriah and my other friends all the time and have been since before I was here.

            One thing I do know is that Eric hasn’t sat in the same table as Tobias until me and my friends started sitting with Uriah’s circle, which included Zeke’s.

            Speaking of Zeke…

            “Change of subject, I heard that we’re supposed to get a feet of snow for tomorrow,” Zeke mentions with a grin.

            Tobias groans. “I know what you’re suggesting and I am not taking part in it.”

            “Why are you always a pansycake when it comes to snow?” Zeke elbows him as he grins broadly at him. “You are always the same with zip lining.”

            “It’s just that I have better things to do then hurling snowballs at people,” says Tobias.

            “In that case, I might as well participate.” Eric smirks. “This would be fun.”

            Lynn groans and I thought I heard her mutter about not wanting to be on Eric’s team again since capture the flag.

 

* * *

 

            “Tris,” says Veronica as she partially entered my office, just four hours into my shift. “Jackie wants you to fax that letter to Erudite regarding the end of the year meeting.”

            “Right.” I pull up the document from the folder on the computer and overlook it for errors before I hit the fax button. “I’m faxing it over there right now.”

            “Good work,” says Veronica as she lifted her thumb up. “That’s what I’m talking about. Now get back to what you were doing.”

            I fax the letter to all three of the Erudite leaders before I go back to the guideline sheet that I was currently focused on for when the Dauntless go back to patrol the factionless sector. The deadline is when Jackie steps down, so I have time to polish it out. Currently the rules are as follows:

**_You are to patrol your designated areas during your designated shift. Any violation of this rule will be reported to Dauntless Leader, Tris Prior, who will decide the consequence._ **

**_You are not to interfere with the Abnegation giving the factionless meals and other necessities. Our manifesto goes against being polite but that doesn’t mean we should not acknowledge the practices of other factions. If violated, will result in immediate action from Tris Prior or if unavailable, Eric Matheson._ **

**_In the event of a few factionless trying to assault one another or someone who is categorized in a faction, diffuse the situation immediately. Do not show aggression to the victim of the assault._ **

**_You are forbidden to exercise force on a factionless member when there is no altercation present. When no attacks are present, you’re their protectors. Not their wardens. Violation of this rule will result in transfer to the fence patrol._ **

            It still needs some polishing and some things will be added; though if I want these rules followed, I want Dauntless who didn’t patrol the factionless sector five years ago, as they might abide by the old rules back when it was originally practiced.

            I pull up the initiation rosters dating back from three years ago to my initiation, though I’ll only go for the Dauntless who were here from three to five years. I composite a list of those currently at the fence to be transferred to the factionless sector when the program begins this spring, and I write Shauna’s name as one of them.

            Once I finished with that, I thought I heard a bloodcurdling scream coming from the the other end of the building. I leap out of my seat and bolt of my office, just in time to hear someone shout, “Someone has jumped!”

            A lump forms in my throat as I make my way down the hallway and I’m shortly joined by the five Dauntless leaders.

            “Why does this have to happen?” asks Veronica as we take the emergency staircase.

            “What?” I ask bewildered.

            “Dauntless jumping to their deaths,” Eric replies. “Happens yearly.”

            “Why do you sound nonchalant?” Jackie demands. “For all I know, you’re suspected by one person for one these death jumps.”

            “That is a false allegation,” Eric spits out. “I was nowhere near Amar when he died. I would have still been in bed around the time it would have happened.”

            At the lobby of the Pire, we see a group of people peering out the building and Marlene runs to me, mascara streaked tears running down her face. Oh no, it was someone we know. it better not be...It couldn’t have been…

            “Uriah,” she gulped. “Uriah is dead.”


	34. Chapter Thirty Four

            I sit in the corner of the Pit with Marlene, Lynn, Will, and Christina as we drink peppermint tea that Tori brewed, like she did right before Al’s funeral. I feel numb from shock. Uriah dead. Uriah gone forever.

            I have just seen him during breakfast before training for that leadership position. He couldn’t be dead. He can’t be. Maybe this is just some nightmare. Maybe I’m still in a simulation and I’ll wake up in the metal chair and that I’m still in initiation.

            But no. It’s real. It’s horrifyingly real.

            “I only knew him for a few months,” Christina says tearfully, “but he was a part of us. Nothing seemed wrong with him this morning. I just don’t understand why he jumped from the top of the Pire.”

            Through my shock, I think I understand why. Jeanine Matthews is to blame. Jeanine had Uriah on her radar before declaring his case inconclusive. Was that a lie on her part? Who did she order to carry out the deed?

            Eric? No, he may be arrogant and ruthless but he’s honorable enough not to kill one of my friends, even if they annoyed him or he didn’t like them.

            Veronica? No. She’s too noble for that.

            Which leaves the other three to consider. Since Jeanine has sunk her claws into Max, I’m not surprised if he killed Uriah just to remain on her good graces. I don’t know about Ross and Jackie though.

            “I practically grew up with him,” says Marlene, trying to keep her voice steady. “He was funny and…and…” She breaks down into tears and Lynn hugs her, trying to comfort her.

            Like with Al’s funeral, most of the faction is in a drunken stupor. They probably drink to numb the grief after the death of a fellow faction member. If only I was near someone who carried alcohol so I could totally numb the pain.

            I manage to find Eric in the crowd and he hands me a black flask, which I take from his hand.

            “Don’t try to drink it all,” he tells me as I pop the lid open. “Drinking the entire contents would cause alcohol poisoning.”

            I nod as I take one big gulp from the flask before handing the flask to him as Zeke stands on the box beside the chasm railing. I guess the leaders only make the speeches if the deceased was a transfer initiate.

            Conversations die down to mutters in minutes.

            Zeke clears his throat. “I guess everyone here knew my brother Uriah.”

            The Dauntless mutter in ascent in response. “He knew how to make people laugh with his jokes and sense of humor but not only that: he was also brave. He was no pansycake, you see.”

            The laughter that follows is hollow and from my peripheral vision, I thought I see Tobias glare at Eric’s direction. I still remember his accusation against Eric for the death of the past initiation instructor. I know why he’s glaring at Eric.

            “Uriah was Dauntless through and through,” says Zeke, tearing up. “He stood up for his friends, he didn’t use his strength to intimate the weak. In life he was brave and he would still be brave in the other side.”

            It’s like the place is shaking all around me until I realize that it’s me as the sobs tear from my body. I feel a arm go around my waist trying to keep me steady. Zeke keeps talking but these words are a blur to me.

            Unlike with Al’s death, it’s like grief is engulfing me after the death of a good friend.

            Uriah didn’t try to kill me like Al did prior to his suicide.

           

* * *

 

I lean against the wall of the apartment, trying to dry off tears with a washcloth. It would be hard for me to continue working considering what just happened today, so I was marked as ‘ill to work’.

Why? Why does this have to happen a month before Christmas, where everything is supposed to be blissful. The Abnegation never exchanged gifts or decorated for Christmas; they give thanks that we have each other, that the family is still together.

Family. If only mother were here. She’d try to comfort and console me, telling me, “I know it’s hard, Beatrice, but he’s in a better place now.” Caleb, being the Erudite he is, he might try to understand the situation and he tell me that reaction to the situation was natural.

I hear someone knock on the door. “Tris?”

It’s Tobias. The last person who I want to see at the moment.

“Go away, Four!” I shout at him.

He tries the doorknob and enters. I should have locked the door.

My legs shaking, I stand up. “I told you to go away, Four! Leave me alone!”

Tobias eyes the gingerbread house for a while, like he’s surprised that it’s there, before turning to me. “I know you’re upset. I understand how you feel.”

I shake my head. I don’t want Tobias. I want my mother. I want Eric. Not him

“Uriah was my friend too,” says Tobias. “I feel what you’re feeling.”

I wipe my tears with my fingers and turn away from him.

“Can I ask you something, Tris?” he says.

“What is there to ask?” I tearfully demand.

“I was going to ask you if you knew where Eric was around the time of Uriah’s death,” he asks.

Somewhere within my grief, I feel anger bubble up within me at that question. Uriah just died and Tobias is already going to pin Eric as the suspect?

I slowly turn towards Tobias, failing to muster a glare. “What makes you think Eric had anything to do with what happened with Uriah?”

“Around ten forty, most of the feed had poor reception and only before someone saw his body did the reception improve,” says Tobias. “Don’t forget where Eric came from before he transferred to Dauntless. He’s very skilled with computers and I’m not surprised if he tampered with the reception just to cover his tracks. Also, Uriah fell from the Pire, just like Amar did, if that didn’t give you any implication.”

“Four, you are only pointing the finger at Eric because you hate him and you have no one else to blame,” I point out, my voice breaking from the tears. “He wouldn’t kill the friend of his girlfriend. Eric is not that selfish.”

“Eric _is_ that selfish,” Tobias argues. “He would do something like that. You want to know how I know. Because I knew him for two years. You don’t know him as well as I do. You don’t even know what kind of a snake he is.”

Tobias instantly looks as if he immediately regretted saying those words, but it’s too late. He said them. Anger from this new accusation and grief from losing a good friend are mixing together like muffin batter.

“Why do you think I don’t know him as well as you do?” I tearfully demand. “Is it because you think I’m still the naïve girl from Abnegation who needs guidance?”

“Tris…” he pleads.

“No, you don’t know him,” I say, tears streaming down my face. “You hate him and because of that you expect the worst of him. He’s no saint, but he’s not a psychopath, Tobias. Just because you two are in the same faction that doesn’t mean that you know him personally. Look at your father. The Abnegation think they know him and look how he treated you. How he treated your mother. If the Abnegation think they know your father when they really don’t, that means that you don’t know Eric either.”

Tobias puts his head down, like he doesn’t know what to say about that.

“Eric made me who I am and Uriah was one of the first friends I made here,” I tell him tearfully. “With this new accusation, I don’t know if I’ll be ever able to look at you the same way again.”

Tobias sighs, and without being asked, he leaves the apartment.

With him gone, I could finally wallow in my grief, this time mixed in with anger. The other four Dauntless leaders could also be viable suspects in this, not just Eric. He is accusing Eric because he wants it to be him due to that grudge. While there were other suspects in this, Tobias is going to blame Eric because he would be the obvious choice.

I sniffle as I walk to the kitchen and open the liquor cabinet by the refrigerator. Eric isn’t a drinker but he keeps liquor because he adds a tablespoon of it to juice depending to enhance the flavor. He said he was going to make Rum Pudding for dessert at Christmas. Scotch, brandy, vodka, rum, and wine are nestled in here, the wine having to have been from Erudite since the Dauntless are not the type to drink wine.

I pull out a bottle of red wine and glance at it. Why am I holding this bottle? To drink my grief away for one night? Possibly. Maybe.

My fingers fiddle with the cork, ready to remove it from the bottle. Should I or should I not? According to the bottle, there’s five percent of alcohol in this and should I drink the whole contents, it would cause alcohol poisoning.

We learned about alcohol poisoning in Mid-Levels and that if someone has passed out and is vomiting without waking up. One has to notify another and stay with the passed out individual before the doctor arrives to take the patient to the infirmary for alcohol detoxification.

No, I can’t do this. Drinking a whole bottle of wine and passing out or probably dying due alcohol poisoning would be selfish. Selfish to Eric. To my friends. Uriah wouldn’t want me to do this.

With my resolve, I put the bottle where I found it and close the liquor cabinet. I should sleep until Eric gets back.

Yeah, sleep is better than alcohol when it comes to grief.

I stumble to our bedroom and kick my shoes off before slip under the covers and bury my head under there.

 

* * *

 

I rouse from my sleep when someone lightly touches my shoulder. I look up to see Eric sitting on the bed near me, looking concerned.

“Tris, are you okay?” he asks me.

“Physically, yes. Emotionally…” My body trembles and I feel the tears start coming. “It’s just that Uriah was also one of my first real friends. I don’t understand how…”

My body shakes from the sobs and Eric enfolds me in his arms, allowing me to cry into my shoulder.

“Just let it all out,” he says to me softly. “Don’t keep it in. We’re all shaken by this. I didn’t know the kid personally, believe me. Sure, he was a pain sometimes but I would be more worried if he wasn’t his mischievous self. Who knows? Maybe he’s causing mischief in that better place he is at.”

I laugh a little but it feels hollow. I pull away and wipe away my tears.

“Tris,” he says and I look at him. “I know losing a friend is hard and it’s something new for you, but it’s not emotionally and physically healthy to wallow in it.”

“You would know this,” I croak. “You were born in Erudite.”

“My mother majored in Psychology for Erudite initiation, and she’s taught me all I needed to know,” Eric replies. “It’s best to deal with grief by facing those feelings and expressing those feelings in a tangible and creative way, like by taking that out of a punching bag or sketching on paper. I heard that helps.”

Face my feelings. It means that if I ignore it and keep it all in, that it would get worse for me and my wellbeing.

“That’s good to know,” I say. “Uriah wouldn’t want people to drink their grief away. I contemplated drinking most of the contents of a wine bottle before I decided against it.”

“You know that would cause alcohol poisoning, and alcohol poisoning could be deadly,” Eric points out. “I’m glad you have to brains to decide against it. I would hate to find you unconscious and your face in your own vomit.”

I wipe the last of the tears from my eyes and I collect myself. “Also, Tobias thinks you had a hand in Uriah’s death.”

Eric’s eyes harden and he narrows them. “Four did what?”

“He thinks you killed Uriah due to the similarity of his death and Amar’s,” I say. “Also, he thinks that the poor reception on the camera feed in the control room points you to the death because of your experience with computers.”

Eric swears under his breath and runs his hand over the top of his head before looking at me, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “The only thing supporting that allegation is his hatred for me. Did I find the boy a pain in the ass? Yeah, but I wouldn’t kill the kid. He kept his mischief to a minimum during the few times I oversaw the Dauntless-born, but I would have been more worried if he wasn’t his goofy, immature self. As for the cameras having poor reception, sometimes the signals from the control rooms of the other factions interfere with the signal of the control room here and it doesn’t take long for the reception to get back to normal.”

That would explain it. It’s more believable then Tobias’s theory. “When I pointed out to him that it couldn’t have been you, Tobias said that he knows you better than I do, that you have me wrapped around your finger.”

Eric tugs on his ear before asking me, “How does ice cream sound?”

“It’s better than alcohol,” I say.

“Okay,” he replies. “I’ll find a carton for you. What flavor sounds good to you?”

I think before saying, “Strawberry?”

“Good.” He pecks me softly on the lips. “It will only take a few minutes.”

As I watch him leave the apartment, I wonder if looking for ice cream to give me is also an excuse to hunt down Tobias for that accusation.

 

* * *

 

Due to Uriah’s death, the anticipated snowball fight was forgotten and November blurred into December without incident. There was a feet of snow on the ground, and sometimes if it accumulated, Dauntless guards from the fence would shovel the snow away from the entrance of the Pire.

The Pedrad family was struck the hardest when it came to Uriah’s death and I heard that Zeke tried to drink away his grief but with no success. The day after his death, Jocelyn made a green bean casserole and I along with Eric and Sean accompanied her when she delivered the casserole to the family.

As for Uriah’s Christmas presents, they were returned for collateral to receive Dauntless points and Eric has been checking on the family every once in a while since it’s a courtesy thing: the leaders usually check on the family of the deceased to make sure everything is okay.

For Tobias, he sees it as Eric erasing any suspicion and covering his tracks. Or he most likely thinks that because he would. Since Tobias voiced his accusation about Eric, I haven’t talked to him or even looked at him. Our friends would sit during mealtimes and I would ignore him if he even spoke to me.

That aside, I’ve concentrated heavily on the leadership training: faxing documents, managing the computer programs, and going on overview patrols. When not training for leadership, I express my grief by drawing pictures with a pencil and a sketchbook that Eric gave me when he went to get me ice cream the day of Uriah’s death.

When I was a child, I would draw to pass the time and I hid the sketches in my notebook as drawing was considered self-indulgent. Currently, I filled my sketchbook from everything I could think of, whether there was an image in my head or I looked at it. I drew a picture of Eric while he was sitting down.

I didn’t isolate myself from my friends. We were all grieving for the loss of a friend. Two weeks after Uriah’s death Christina, Will, and I would spend some time in the Pit, usually purchasing clothes and applying tattoos with our Dauntless credits; I didn’t do the latter.

Through my grief, I knew that Uriah would want us to be happy. He wouldn’t want us to wallow in it.

 

* * *

 

“One key thing about Divergents is that they are simulation aware,” Max explains to me in the middle of December. “That means that they know they are in a simulated reality and will try anything to manipulate the outcome.”

I nod. “Yes. That’s what Eric told me.”

“Another thing to look for would be fast simulation times but that isn’t always a guarantee that the individual could be Divergent,” Max explains. “It could also have to do with their level of bravery. Like with you, you’re average simulation time was over two minutes and forty-five seconds but the reason your second simulation wasn’t recorded was due to computer system overheat, so that would disqualify you.”

I consider it ingenious that Eric was able to get away with deleting the simulation result. That I was able to get away with it without getting caught. Perhaps that has to do with the timing of the deletion.

“Indeed it does,” I say, crossing my arms. “I was aware that I might have to look for Divergence in the area of behavior, unless I misheard Jeanine during her last visit here.”

“Looking for certain behaviors proves to be difficult especially when you’re around the transfers,” says Max, “but it wouldn’t hurt to check. You would have to confirm it during stage two of initiation though.”

He hands me a booklet, which looks nearly identical to the one Jeanine gave me last month. “This is a booklet accompanying the tutorial that was just installed in your computer. You have until the first week of January to complete it.”

I can’t believe that the New Year starts next month. I would be here for about four months.

Max dismisses me and I go back to my office, where I find a note on my desk. Picking it up, I see that Eric wrote it and he thought to attach a candy cane to it.

_Since both our shifts end ten minutes apart, I thought that we might go to the city center tonight to obtain a Christmas tree. Tomorrow is the last day to get one._

I know what he’s talking about. Every year, from December 5th to December 16th, the Amity would bring over the pine trees that they plant to the city center so faction members could put them up in there dwellings. My family never put one up in their house, because it was considered extravagant.

In our apartment, the only Christmas decorations are a few red ribbons and that gingerbread house Eric and I made together last month, so a tree would do, only that we would get a medium-sized one since I don’t think we’d have room for a big one. They would be picked over anyway.

I take the candy cane from the punch hole of the note and begin opening it as it sit down; it broke halfway through, though I decided to suck on it anyway. I decided to get that wretched tutorial started, since I hate procrastinating.

Procrastinating when it came to schoolwork was one thing but procrastinating on something meant for leadership training which I don’t want to do is another thing entirely.


	35. Chapter Thirty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is currently being plagiarized by BW-H-IM-CA-H-T over at ff.net and the plagiarized story is under the name Unexpected, so unfortunately this story will be on hiatus for sometime.

“We should try to find book ornaments when the next trade shipment comes in,” he says as we near the area where people are buying trees.

            “Book ornaments?” I ask. The idea makes me want to laugh and it’s as if I’m about to laugh.

            “Yes,” Eric replies with a smile. “Book ornaments. They look like books and you can open them to see an excerpt from a novel.”

            “I never had that stuff growing up,” I say to him with all honesty.

            “That leaves me to correctly assume that your parents never put up a Christmas tree,” he says.

            “A Christmas tree is also considered extravagant,” I inform him as we near the trucks carrying the trees. There are a few people getting trees at the last minute too.

            “What is it with Stiffs and their definition of extravagant?” asks Eric, not bothering to hide the irritation in his tone. “Hamburgers should not be in that category, since it’s just food. Then again even seasoning and butter is considered sinful to use.”

            I’m relieved that we’re not around members of Abnegation, since Eric’s comments would warrant a stern glance. There are only members of Amity present.

            Looking at the Amity members present, I see that Robert is there.

            “Now, let’s see what we can put up in our apartment,” Eric says. “I don’t fancy a large Christmas tree.”

            “Me either,” I say. “We should go with one that fits that bare corner in the apartment, wouldn’t you think?”

            “A large tree could fit that corner but the hard part would be to transfer it to the apartment,” Eric points out. “A tree medium in size would be of less trouble.”

            Fortunately, the large trees were gone. The remaining trees were the medium-sized trees and the ones small enough to fit on tabletops.

            “This doesn’t look too bad,” Eric says, touching the top branches of a medium-sized tree. “It could fit in that corner in our apartment. What do you think, Tris?”

            I take a look at the tree he’s talking about. It doesn’t look too bad and it would fit through the door just fine.

            “Yeah, it looks good,” I say. “When we put it up it would need some decorating.”

            The tree was later fitted in the bed of a truck owned by the Amity and Robert decided to volunteer to drive us back to Dauntless. I could only imagine how intimidating it is for Robert since Eric is accompanying me. Eric does look intimidating; there is no lie about that.

            “Are those guys treating you well over there, Beatrice?” Robert asks me after a few minutes of complete silence.

            It feels strange to be called by that name, even though it’s my birth name. I’m so used to be called Tris for four months now.

            “It’s not too bad over there,” I say. I don’t want him to get a false impression about Dauntless, though he probably knows what they do.

            “Nothing is sugar and rainbows,” Eric says. “If it were, it would be utterly unrealistic. It would be stupid as well.”

            Robert doesn’t say anything. Probably to avoid conflict as the Amity are all about peace and harmony. It’s not my mindset due to what I been through but not everybody is fit for Dauntless.

            When we arrive at the Pire, I see that Sean is standing outside like he’s been waiting for us. Eric and I hop off the bed of the truck before Sean and Eric unstrap the tree, and they both drag it from the truck bed.

            I wave goodbye to Robert before following Eric and Sean into the warm building.

            “Decided to get your Christmas tree at the last minute?” Sean asks Eric. “Jocelyn and I got ours the first day when the Amity started distributing them.”

            “When you have a leadership position, it doesn’t give you time,” Eric points out. “Considering that this is the fifteenth of December, I wouldn’t necessarily call it last minute.”

            I go to the apartment before they do just so I could fill a bucket with water so we can preserve the tree. I take an old, worn blanket and put it in the corner before placing the bucket on the blanket.

            I open the door for Sean and Eric and watch as they fit the tree into the bucket. Fortunately the tree doesn’t take too much space.

            “That does it,” says Sean nodding. “I think we should go down to the dining hall before the dependents eat all the gingerbread muffins.”

            Eric looks at his wristwatch. “At this time, they are probably picked over. It’s not like the cooks make them all year round. They are considered a Christmas treat.”

            Sean swears under his breath. “It’s not like I blame them anyway. Well, see you guys sometime tomorrow.”

            “Will do,” says Eric. “Thanks for the help.”

            Sean exits out of the apartment and Eric looks at me. “Did you know that Amity boy?”

            “He was my neighbor back in Abnegation,” I answer. “His sister stayed behind in Abnegation.”

            “An Abnegation transferring to Amity,” Eric says. “Not too common I heard but nothing unusual since kindness and selflessness are related.”

            “It’s not common for Abnegation dependents to leave their faction of choice,” I say. “When they do, we’re the topic of a dinner table sometimes, about how selfish we were for leaving.”

            “Is it actually selfish to expect your kid to choose the faction they were born in?” Eric raises his eyebrow incredulously. “Just because you’re born in that particular faction, that doesn’t mean you’re cut out for it.”

            I never saw it that way: that it’s actually selfish to not acknowledge the fact that dependents are not necessarily cut-out for their faction of origin. I think of Caleb and his blood dropping into the water of the Erudite bowl. Having him stay in Abnegation would be selfish and he would have been forced to hide his intelligence.

            “I never thought of it like that,” I tell him with all honesty.

            “One learns new things every day,” he replies. “Well, I’ll be taking a shower.”

            “I’ll buy some ornaments,” I say as I head towards the door, “and don’t take all the hot water while I’m gone.”

            He chuckles and I shake my head as I exit the apartment. Since this was the fifteenth of December, Christmas decorations were bound to be picked over. I have never brought ornaments for trees before but judging how they begin to sell Christmas décor in November, they probably try to make sure that at least everyone gets them before Christmas Eve.

            The Pit was crawling with Dauntless as usual and going into the necessity shop, I see a cart labeled CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS. They weren’t too picked over though. I pick up a basket and start taking green and red ornaments, a star, snowflake ornaments, and a garland with red ribbons.

            I venture into the food section of the store and look for at the selection of muffin batter. There is a box for blueberry muffins and I know that Eric likes blueberry muffins. I put that in the basket and I reach for the box for gingerbread muffins.

            I place the box in the basket and reach for the tube of cream cheese frosting that’s on the shelf next to the muffin batter. Knowing that I have everything, I go to the counter near the front of the shop to purchase my items. I put the items on the counter as the cashier processes the items and bags them.

            “That would be thirty points,” the cashier tells me after handing me my bags.

            “Thanks.” I take the bags from him and I leave the necessities shop, and enter the bustling Pit.

 

* * *

 

            When I return to the apartment, I see that Eric has just left the bathroom; he pats the hair on the top of his hair with a towel.

            “Were they picked over?” he asks me.

            “Not terribly picked over,” I tell him as I set the bag on the table in the kitchen. “I got muffin mix for both blueberry and gingerbread muffins while I was there.”

            “Cream cheese frosting goes good with gingerbread muffins,” he says to me as I put the boxes on the kitchen table.

            “I brought the frosting too.” I show him the tube of frosting. “As for the Christmas tree, how does one decorate it? I’m still new to this.”

            “In my house before my transfer, my family would decorate the tree together,” Eric replies. “The tallest usually puts the star on the top of the tree.”

            “I see,” I say. “When do you want to decorate it?”

            “It would be more fun after we ate and when we’re both dressed for bed,” he says with a smile.

            “Alright,” I say as I return his smile with my own. I take a quick warm shower and slip into my thermal underwear before putting on sweatpants and a long-sleeved black shirt.

            Going into the kitchen, I notice that Eric is making dinner. I made breakfast this morning, so he probably decided that it was his turn to make dinner.

            From what I smell, he’s preparing steak and potatoes. I told him I like them mashed while he prefers baked potatoes.

            “Steak and potatoes?” I ask him as I enter the kitchen. “It smells good.”

            “You guessed correctly,” he says. “I’m going to make mashed potatoes since you don’t like baked potatoes.”

            “I don’t particularly mind baked potatoes,” I say, sliding into a chair. “I just prefer my potatoes mashed.”

            “Sure you do, you picky eater.” Eric smiles with amusement. “Have any ideas what you might want for Christmas?”

            “Oh, I never thought of anything yet,” I tell him sheepishly. I been so focused on that leadership training and Uriah’s death that I never thought about what I wanted for Christmas; nor did I think about getting Eric something.

            Besides, being raised in Abnegation is part of the reason why this feels alien to me.

            “It’s okay,” he says. “I know that this is your first Christmas that you would actually receive presents.”

            “What do you like?” I ask him.

            “I would suggest looking at the book shelves and see what I don’t have,” says Eric.

            He wants a book. That shouldn’t surprise me. Trade shipments come tomorrow anyway, and I’ll be overlooking the interfaction trades when the Dauntless leaders and Jeanine have that end-of year meeting tomorrow afternoon.

I can’t attend since I’m just a leader in training.

            After dinner, Eric and I decorate the tree with the ornaments, though being the tallest he puts the star on the top of the tree.

            I wonder what I’ve been missing out in since I grew up in Abnegation.

 

* * *

 

            “Tris, do you have any suggestions on what to give to someone born from Erudite?” Christina asks as she and Shauna put a box containing serums on a trolley.

            “How about a book?” I suggest, looking up from my tablet. “That’s what I’m giving Eric for Christmas.”

            “Okay,” says Christina, though she still sounds unsure. “I don’t know what kind of stories that Will likes.”

            “Ask him,” I tell her. “Ask him what stories he likes.” I draw my attention to the tablet and look at the Erudite cargo truck. “That’s it for fear serum. Now it’s time for the rest.”

            “Good,” says Christina as Shauna wheels the trolley into the compound. “I don’t understand why we need that many vials of fear serum.”

            “If this is accurate, I’d say that this faction is full of masochists,” says a red-haired Erudite woman who is also overlooking the delivery of fear serum and goods from Erudite.

            “Not all of us are masochistic,” I defend. “A few, yes, but not necessarily all of us.”

            “I’d like to point out that getting tattoos and piercings also qualifies as masochism.” She casts a disproving glance at my appearance.

            Eric told me that his own father didn’t approve of the Erudite and that the Erudite don’t think that the Dauntless are very bright. The Erudite probably see us all as adrenaline-obsessed idiots who don’t care about our own lives.

            Five boxes are loaded to another trolley before one of the Dauntless closes the truck door. I tap on the tablet screen, concluding the delivery and the Erudite woman enters the truck before it drives us.

            The five of us leave the Erudite delivery port for the warmth of the Dauntless compound, away from the blowing snow.

            I part from them and go up to the Pire. So I could complete that dreaded tutorial that covers the topic of hunting down Divergents.

 

* * *

 

            The screen in front of me brings up an example of an index containing an initiate’s simulation data. It highlights the third line on the list and I see the question _What is wrong with this list of simulation?_

I remove the pen from my mouth and type out the answer on the text box. _One simulation is not recorded_.

            I enter that answer and the word _Correct_ appears on the screen before I see the index of the simulation index return to the screen. _What is the appropriate action for this scenario?_ I’m asked.

            I’m about to write _flag the file and bring it to the attention of available authority_ when I hear the door knock.

            “You can enter,” I say, as I typed up the planned answer.

            The door opens and predictably, it was Eric that enters. He is carrying a large, white binder.

            “How was that meeting?” I ask him.

            “Drawn out and boring,” says Eric. “Like all the meetings led by the Erudite.”

            “You draw things out too, you know,” I remind him.

            He chuckles. “Since you weren’t present, Jeanine wanted you to have this. It covers everything Erudite and Dauntless did together this year.”

            “So, Jeanine wants me to do my homework,” I say. “That means that I might have to play catchup, if I want to succeed in this training.”

            “Not necessarily,” Eric tells me. “All you need to do is read everything that we did during the year.”

            “Likewise,” I say. “I’m halfway through the second part of that tutorial about finding Divergents. I might get finished with the tutorial altogether tomorrow.”

            “Good, because that thing is due the first week of the New Year,” says Eric. “Veronica expects you to start the combat stage after New Year’s. Good thing you ranked a three during stage one of initiation.”

            It was a good thing or else I would be uneasy about that process.

 

* * *

 

            “Oh, he’d like this.” Christina picks up a book as we looked through the goods that were recently delivered today.

            “Did you ask him what he likes?” I ask her, picking up a book about the Ancient Greeks. I know that Eric and I don’t have that particular book.

            “He likes adventures and that type of stuff,” Christina answers. “I tricked him into answering under the impression that I was curious.”

            “I know what Eric likes,” I say, picking up another book that I know for sure that he doesn’t own. “I just had to see what titles he doesn’t own.”

            “How many books does he have exactly?” Christina asks me.

            “Two medium bookshelves worth,” I answer. “I read at least most of the first bookshelf.”

            “If I didn’t know what faction you originated from, I would have thought that you were born Erudite,” says Christina.

            “Tris?” I hear Tobias ask me.

            I nearly drop my books in response. I thought he got the message that I wanted nothing to do with him, especially with that accusation against Eric.

            I turn around and face him. His hands are in his pockets, like he’s uncertain about this.

            “Is there anything I could do for you?” I ask him. I say the words as coldly as I can.

            Tobias winces before composing himself. “I would speak to you without anyone listening.”

            Oh, is he going to solidify his reasons for why he thinks Eric was responsible for Uriah’s death?   However, the back of my mind and my gut informs me that I could be wrong.

            “Okay,” I say. “Just don’t waste my time.”

           

* * *

 

            We go to the other side of the compound where the apartments are and when we enter his apartment, Tobias swallows hard and says, “I went to see my mother today.”

            That throws me off course in my thoughts as I wasn’t expecting that. He continues.

            “I wanted to tell her what happened, how I felt about it.” Tobias sigh

            The way Tobias sounded, it’s like going to her to talk about a friend’s death was rather uncomfortable; that he doesn’t confide in her often.

            “What did she say?” I ask her.

            “I told her what you said about factions and knowing people, and that you used Marcus as an example,” says Tobias, “and she said you were right about that. She agreed with the fact that you only know a person if you live with them, that you just because you live in the same faction, that doesn’t mean you know them.”

            “Exactly,” I say. “You don’t know someone even if you’re in the same room for just three hours.”

            “I thought about what you said for weeks,” Tobias admits. “That I don’t know Eric like I think I do. I just needed a second opinion, and since mother was abused by Marcus too, I knew that she would give me that.”

            “So, is Eric cleared from suspicion or is some of it still lingering?” I ask him.

            “I tried thinking about other suspects, and I’m surprised that it does not consist of one person,” says Tobias. “You’re right, it could have been the other four.”

            “You know what mother told me once?” I say. “She said that when one wrongs us, that it’s easier to blame them for something heinous because there is no one else to blame. And that naturally we’d expect the worst of that person. She told me that we should try to think of other suspects.”

            Though I hated no one in particular at the age of fourteen, I was furious when I saw my backpack and books ruined after coming back from lunch. I was sure it was Erudite children until I told mother of the incident and she told me those words. Mother doesn’t hate the Erudite like father does.

            Tobias looks like he might say something but instead shakes his head. “I’ve never had good role models for parents. I was never told things like that.”

            I don’t want to imagine living the life he did: abused by his father and his mother left so she could escape the abuse. Even when you understand, it’s still hard to walk a mile in their shoes.


	36. Chapter Thirty Six

Christmas morning, I’m roused by feeling his lips touch my nose. I open my eyes to look at his grey ones.

            “Merry Christmas, sleepyhead,” says Eric as I yawn and sit up. “So, when do want to open your presents? Now or after breakfast?”

            “What did you do back in Erudite when you were a kid?” I ask. This whole aspect of gift exchanging is new to me. So, I decided to hear from Eric what he did during Christmas.

            “We opened our presents before breakfast,” he says, “since curiosity will be eating us away if we waited.”

            “Alright,” I say smiling. “We’ll open presents first.”

            “Seconded,” he says. “Otherwise we’d be staring under the tree and not eat our food.”

            I giggle and we both leave the bedroom. Under the tree is a small mound of wrapped gifts, including the two that are for Eric. A decorated Christmas tree with wrapped presents underneath is a strange sight to me. I’m used to see a living room that only had its usual furnishings every Christmas.

            “I guess we’re both playing Santa,” I deduced.

            “You guessed correct.” Eric pulls up a stool from nearby and sits down. He picks up a golden box that is bound together by a red ribbon. “This one is for you, of course.”

            I tip the box to get a hint of what it is. Something is protected by tissue paper inside. I place the parcel on my lap and carefully untie the ribbon before removing the lid. Opening the tissue paper, I see what looks like a garment. Cherry red with black lace overlay.

            I pick it up and see that it’s a dress with a straight-across neckline. Standing up, I hold the dress to my body to see that the skirt stops three inches above the knee. The dress is not bad itself.

            “It may be strange but it’s not bad for guys to buy stuff for their girlfriends,” he says.

            “I like it,” I say. “I’ll wear it when it’s not ten degrees out.”

            He laughs softly as I put the dress back in its parcel and set it aside. I hand him the parcel wrapped in old newspaper. “I followed your suggestion and looked at our collection of books to see what we have.”

            He takes the parcel and carefully rips the newspaper apart. I carefully watch his reaction as he looks at the book in his hands. A wide grin spreads across his face.

            “Add that to the books I have yet to read,” he says.

            Aside from the dress, he gave me a box of cherry cordials, a pocket knife set, and a silver bracelet. I have to distance myself from the cherry cordials because I already ate two when we cleaned up the torn paper from the floor. And they were the first time I had them.

            We both go to the kitchen to begin making breakfast. While getting out the pancake batter, Eric takes out a bag of chocolate chips. Chocolate chip pancakes, I guess. He’s made excellent blueberry pancakes.

            “I’ve never had chocolate chip pancakes before,” I say, as I take out the tube containing the sausage.

            “Mother made chocolate pancakes sometimes for breakfast,” says Eric. “I’ve made them for myself a few times and I think that they turn out well.”

            “I’ll believe it when I taste it,” I say smiling.

            As he mixes the pancake batter, I roll the sausage into links on the rolling board before setting them on the sizzling pan. In minutes the place smells like sizzling sausage and pancake batter.

            I take the syrup, carton of fruit, and the can of whipped cream from the refrigerator. While I recently took a liking to syrup, Eric prefers whip cream on his pancakes.

            “I’ve never liked syrup,” he told me once. “Too sticky when cold and runny when warm.”

            No one necessarily has to have the same taste in food.

            I cut up one of the sausages to see if it was thoroughly cooked. I learned that from mother as it’s not healthy to eat raw meat. No one wants to get a tapeworm.

            Once everything was thoroughly cooked, we prepare our plates. I nestle the blueberries and strawberries between the sausage links and pancakes before picking up the bottle of syrup from the table.

            I cut up the small pile of pancakes on my plate and take a small bite. Chocolate chip pancakes with lemon extract. I feel my eyes widen from the sweet taste of the pancakes.

            He knows how to make pancakes.

            “Delicious,” I say, regarding the pancakes.

            “Now, don’t go around telling everyone that, Stiff,” Eric tells me. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

            “Right, because the ruthless Dauntless leader can’t bake and make good pancakes,” I say, rolling my eyes. “They probably won’t think you made that rum pudding last night.”

            “I didn’t just make it,” he pointed out. “You mixed the batter and glazed it. Besides, it would be selfish to take the credit. Anyway, the cake is for ourselves, since it’s not big enough to serve a whole party of people.”

            “Point taken,” I say, before popping a strawberry in my mouth.

            After breakfast, we get dressed and leave the apartment bundled up in our outdoor winter gear. Only we weren’t going outside because a task required it.

 

* * *

 

            Outside the Pire, there was a foot of snow and flurries fell softly from the opaline sky. We weren’t the only ones out here, as there were some Dauntless dependents playing around in the snow.

            “I suppose you haven’t built a snowman before,” says Eric. He kneels to the ground and begins rolling a handful of snow.

            “I’ve seen others make them but I never made them with anybody before.” I lift a shoulder. “You know. The usual ‘It draws attention to ourselves’ sort of thing.”

            “Me and two other kids, Randolph Goldstein and Frederick Lovelace, would make a snowman at Millennium Park during the winter,” says Eric. “One time the three of us got in trouble because it was a caricature of the first former Algebra teacher from Mid-Levels.”

            “Oh, Mrs. Jones?” I ask. “The teacher that expected us to do three sections a day?”

            “Yes,” says Eric, “and from what I recently heard from mother a year ago she’s still teaching.”

            “How much trouble did you get in?” I ask. I’m interested to hear about his childhood back in Erudite.

            “We got a scolding and had to write a note of apology.” Eric shrugs. “We were given the lecture that we should treat our teachers with respect since they were vital to the faction and the other factions. I specifically was told that I should have known better since my mother is a teacher at Lower Levels. Unsurprisingly, Randolph and Frederick got off easy by their parents whilst I was treated to a lecture by my father that I made him look bad.”

            “My parents would have sent me and Caleb to bed without supper if we did anything like that,” I say. “Abnegation punishment. I don’t know how the Erudite do it.”

            “In Erudite, household punishment is usually eating dinner by yourself,” he explains.

            Being sent to bed without supper seems more merciful then eating dinner by myself. That would be lonely.

            The two of us rolled the snow on the ground until it became a giant ball of snow on the ground. We did the same thing with the other two balls of snow, only that the torso and head were smaller then each other and the bottom.

            For the eyes and mouth we used pebbles that were lying by our feet.

            “You think he’s missing anything?” I ask.

            Eric pulls off his scarf and wraps it around the snowman. “There. He doesn’t look like he’s freezing to death out here.”

            A snowball hits him squarely in the back and when we turn around, the dependents that were previously snowball fighting scurried away like mice; like they were afraid of the consequences of throwing a snowball at someone like Eric.

            “Has that happened before?” I ask him.

            “Rarely,” he answers. “When they do, they run for the hills. What they don’t know is that I don’t waste my time confronting kids on petty things like that. “

 

* * *

 

            At lunchtime, the aroma of roast chicken, turkey, beef, and baked goods were wafting from the dining hall.            

            At Abnegation, we ate what we usually did every day: plain food with no seasoning or butter. Going to the food line, I feel my eyes widen. There was lamb, roast chicken, roast beef, turkey, roast ham, buttered mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and chipolatas. It would seem as if the cooks make special food for Christmas day.

            I take a slab of ham and nestle the buttered peas and mashed potatoes with it. The dessert buffet that I will return to later has food that makes my mouth water. Trifle, cheesecake, fruitcake, pudding, and of course, the chocolate cake that is common place. I remind myself not to get a second serving so I could have room for dessert.

            At the end of the food line, there were three metal jugs. One was labeled regular **_eggnog_** ; the second was labeled **_pumpkin spice eggnog_** ; the last one was labeled **_hot chocolate_**. Knowing I should try the eggnog, I pour some in a small glass.

            Eric and I sit at the usual table and shortly we were joined by Shauna, Lynn, and Hector.

            “Boy, does this smell good.” Shauna sits across from me. “I’m starving.”

            “Says the girl who chowed down on Christmas candy this morning,” says Lynn, as she rolls her eyes.

            “One burns calories while walking the fence perimeter,” says Shauna. “I can’t wait until the spring when I patrol the factionless sector. I won’t be with stupid, old Jerry.”

            Unfortunately for those patrolling the fence, they have no Christmas off. Those with government jobs have Christmas off as it’s a family holiday; that people should be with their families and not behind their desks.

            “How is he stupid?” asks Hector.

            “He claims he sees things beyond the outer limits, like glinting metal.” Shauna rolls her eyes and snorts. “During this year’s initiation, he claimed that there was something out there and it turned out to be nothing but a _plastic bag_.”

            Tobias, who just joined us, snorts. “Yeah, I remember you telling me and Zeke that day.”

            “A fruitcake is he?” Jocelyn asks as soon as she and Sean join us.

            “I guess you could say that,” says Shauna, lifting one shoulder.

            I cut up the slab of ham as I listened to the conversation around me. Hector listed off the things he got this morning.

            “Anyway, Santa gave me a pair of socks,” says Hector. “I don’t understand why he would.”

            “Santa is not real, Hec,” says Lynn.

            “He ate the cookies I prepared for him and drank the milk,” Hector argues.

            “You’re thirteen,” says Lynn. “Aren’t you a little old for that?”

            “Just because you don’t believe in Santa Clause, that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t either,” says Eric. “If he wants to believe in Santa Clause, let him.”

            Tobias looks at Eric with surprise before spitting out his eggnog.

            “Dude, are you okay?” Zeke asks Tobias with concern as he sits down next to him.

            Tobias coughs. “Sorry. The eggnog went down the wrong pipe.”

            Lynn raises her eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you believe in Santa Clause. You probably don’t, being that you were once Erudite.”

            “I believed in Santa Clause until I was thirteen,” says Eric. Christina and Will join us at this point.

            “Oh, and what caused you to stop believing in Santa?” Jocelyn asks him, even though it’s like she knows the answer to it.

            “It’s best not to say it within earshot of children who do,” Eric answers.

            Tobias cleans up the mess he made on the table.

            “Guess who was born on the twenty-fifth of December?” Will asks.

            “Isaac Newton,” Eric answers.

            “Who’s he?” asks Hector.

            “I suppose by now, you’d learned about Newton’s Three Laws of Motion,” says Eric, looking slightly flustered. “You’d have to by now.”

            “Now don’t interrogate him and continue eating,” I tell him.

            Eric grumbles under his breath though he complies.

            Once I eat the potatoes, ham, and buttered peas, I decide to try the trifle; it was filling the first serving.

            I’m not going to eat anymore or else I won’t have room for that rum pudding.

 

* * *

 

            “You’re going to like this.”

            “I know when I’ll taste it.”

            Eric takes a small slice of the rum pudding and places it on the plate. “Here. Tell me how it tastes.”

            He hands me the plate and I pick up the fork. Delicately, I stick my fork in the slice and take a bite.

            I never had rum before, though I wonder if this is what it tastes like without the alcohol. Not that I want to drink rum. In other words, it’s delicious.

            “This is good,” I tell him before eating another bite.

            “I’d know you like it,” he says. “Just don’t eat the whole cake.”

            “I’m not that gluttonous,” I tell him.

            He serves himself a piece of rum cake and pours two shots of white grape juice, adding a tablespoon of white wine in each. He hands me a glass.

            “So, you stopped believing in Santa Clause at thirteen,” I say, taking a sip of the beverage.

            “I didn’t see the logic of a man living in subzero temperatures who delivers presents to the good children in one single night,” he answers. “Partly, because I grew out of that mindset.”

            “Did your parents shoot that concept of Santa down like Lynn did?” I ask him.

            “No,” he says. “My parents were among those who know that encouraging a child’s imagination helps them develop better. They knew I was no longer going to believe in that concept anyway.”

            “I thought that Erudite parents didn’t want their children to believe in Santa,” I say, raising my eyebrow. “That concept is illogical, as you put it.”

            “You get parents who don’t want their children to believe in something so imaginary because it’s illogical,” Eric explains. “And you get parents like mine who encourage the imagination because it helps the child develop. In the Christmas before my transfer, the leading psychologist released an article about how it’s beneficial for the child’s development to encourage the belief that Santa exists, even if you don’t believe in it. He said that encouraging imagination and creativity helps children to learn better and develop social skills.”

            “That’s interesting,” I say. “I never believed in Santa because it would interfere with the ‘presents are indulgent’ ideology.”

            “How was this Christmas compared to your previous ones?” he asks of me.

            I think about that. Christmas was spent giving those without food and clothes. This Christmas lacked that, though it’s like I’ve been introduced to how another faction celebrates the holiday.

            “It’s been a learning experience,” I tell him.


	37. Epilogue

            “For a Dauntless leader, physical endurance is crucial,” Veronica explains as we exit the elevator into the twelfth floor. “There is a reason why leader-in-training is offered to members ranking from first to fifth during stage one of their initiations.”

            “Which is the best rank to pass this phase?” I ask.

            “We’d like it if you’d rank anywhere from a one to a three from stage one of Dauntless initiation,” Veronica. “Since you ranked a third for stage one, you’re in luck.”

            “Probably because I had a certain person personally train me for stage one,” I say.

            “I wouldn’t give Eric all the credit,” she says. “It also probably has to with the fact that you were the first jumper. Most of the first jumpers tend to score high in initiation. It takes a strong and mental will to jump down that hole first.”

            That’s interesting. That it takes strong and physical will to jump first. I never thought of it like that before. I jumped because no one else was willing to.

            We stop before a metal door and Veronica presses her finger on a small screen beside it.

            “Veronica Winters. Dauntless leader. Access granted,” says a monotone electronic voice. The door slides open and we enter the private training room. Unlike the training rooms down in the compound, this is small in size and looks state of the art.

            In one area there is a large target; the optional weapons being a rifle, handgun, and knife. There is a sparring platform on a corner and south of me is a complicated obstacle course.

            An obstacle course. Something that we didn’t have back in initiation.

            In the room with us is a bronzed-skin woman with black hair. Both her ears are pierced at a along the earlobes.

            “Tris, this is Simone,” Veronica introduces. “Usually she’s part of technical support, fixing the wiring of cameras but she has offered to provide training to leaders-in-training.”

            She shakes my hand and smiles at me. “Nice to meet you, Tris.”

She’s never questioned my abilities due to my faction of origin. That’s a plus.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it.” Veronica turns her heel and exits the room.

Simone turns to face me. “The level of training is set higher then what is expected for the initiates. To give you an idea, none of the initiates would pass stage one if this was their training.”

I nod. “That’s what I was told when I first started training.”

“This training phase is five days long,” she explains. “Today and tomorrow you’ll learn about shooting and piercing targets. Two days of hand-to-hand physical combat and one day of going through the obstacle course.”

Just one day of the obstacle course. Probably because it wouldn’t take long how to do it.

“So, I should say that you shouldn’t recommend training of this difficulty for the future initiates,” Simone continues. “The recent Dauntless leader has already raised the bar of success as it is.”

And so he did.

She leads me to the ring of targets and hands me the rifle. “Have you remembered how to shoot a firearm during initiation?”

“Yeah,” I answer. “I know how to hold one.”

“From what I learned, they don’t use moving targets,” she says. “In reality, when firing a gun, most targets are not still.”

So, I’ll be shooting moving targets. This will not be easy but I will not fail. I passed initiation, so I should pass this rigorous leadership training too.

“Makes sense,” I say.

“Your objective is to shoot all seven targets when they are moving,” she says.

I nod as I position myself, holding my rifle the way I was instructed to during initiation. Simone presses a button and the targets begin moving. i squint my eyes and move my rifle along with the moving targets as I begin shooting.

I missed the first try but I was able to shoot target number two. I reposition myself and shoot the third time but the target took a surprise turn and missed again.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “This takes some time.”

I nod as I look back to the rotating and moving targets. I position myself again, this time paying close attention to how they move and when they move.

Once I had my eye on a particular target, I shoot.

That was my second successful shot.

 

* * *

 

“Any update on these regulations for when we send the Dauntless back to the factionless sector?” Eric asks me after lunch.

“I reviewed and edited them three times,” I tell him. I remove the file from the drawer and handed it to him. “I’m sure it would pass the test.”

Eric opens the folder and I watch to see what his reaction would be. His eyes rove over the document and he nods, appearing satisfied.

“This is a lot better and less convoluted then the previous regulations.” Eric closes the folder. “If anything happens, we’ll take care of it.”

“We did promise the Abnegation councilmembers that we’ll refine the regulations,” I say. “They will be happy that it will be off limits to interfere with charity work.”

“I admit, they will be less likely to pull them out the next time,” says Eric. “I will fax this to Max, Veronica, Ross, and Jackie. See what they say.”

If Eric says it was good enough, I’m hoping that the others will see it as good enough as well.

 

* * *

 

The physical training for leadership is different compared to the difficulty level and the methodology of it. No initiate would pass if this was expected of them.

I perfected in the rifle segment of the target practice. It prepared me for when I shot with the handgun, though when I threw the knives, it took me three tries until I was able to hit the targets right in the center.

Next was the obstacle course. That was a challenge. I had to crawl under security lasers and make sure that I didn’t get burned before climbing a net to get to a set of bars without falling through. Afterwards I had to jump through hoop before swinging across to the other time over hot tar without falling in.

The first try was okay. I was able to crawl under the security lasers without them touching my clothes, though I could feel the heat radiate towards me.

My knees felt sore from crawling on the ground when I climbed the net to the first set of bars. I breathed evenly, hoping that that I didn’t lose my balance. Luckily I didn’t.

When I got to the bars however, that was another story. I put my hand on one bar and put my foot on the other, but somehow my fingers slipped and I fell through the bars.

“It wouldn’t be unusual to fail the first time,” Simone told me. “It’s only natural to correct your mistakes after the first time.”

The second time was better. I was able to cross the bars without falling before proceeding to the rest of the obstacle course without any trouble. When I got to the final set of bars and took a deep breath before grasping them with my hands to swing across to the other side.

I didn’t fall in the tar fortunately.

As for hand-to-hand combat, the first day was spent testing my knowledge on fighting methods, using a dummy. Simone knew every method in the book, but I remember her eyes widening in surprise when I was able to punch the dummy in the labeled vital areas.

Fortunately, she didn’t guess where I learned my moves from. I guess she thought that I learned them myself and didn’t have someone teach me. Like Eric.

For day two and the final day of the physical training, the goal was to match up in terms of skill. It was no lie that I passed that one.

           

* * *

 

The dependents went back to school in January after vacation and winter was the same as last month: cold and dry. Eventually January blurred into February and everything began thawing out.

Another holiday I was introduced was Valentines’ Day. The holiday of lovers they call it here. I woke up on Valentines’ Day to see that Eric baked me a giant heart-shaped cookie covered in red frosting. He even decided to put my first full name on the cookie with white icing. There was even a card in which he wrote _Love is infinite. They say flowers represent love but how could they if a flower withers?_ and attached was a necklace.

“I thought a cookie would be better than giving you a box of chocolate and flowers,” he said.

“You make me not want to eat it,” I tell him.

“You can,” he says. “Just don’t eat it too fast.”

I don’t intend too, especially if it had my name on it.

I knew that Valentines’ Day wouldn’t be happy for people like Marlene, who lost Uriah before Christmas. It still feels odd without him. It’s like we’re expecting him to sit down with us and say something funny to relieve the tension of day.

Unfortunately, not everything will remain the same.

 

* * *

 

The end of February brought heavy rain and March arrived with warm temperatures and green grass. This will also be the month when Jackie will step down and I will take her place. Another thing coming up is Eric’s nineteenth birthday. He doesn’t look nineteen. He looks like he could be in his twenties, as does Tobias. They say that stress ages the person, though with Tobias it probably had to do with living under an abusive father before escaping to Dauntless.

“What a long day,” huffs Lynn during lunch. “I could crash.”

“I thought you liked your job,” says Will. “You said it was better than patrolling the fence.”

“Of course you wouldn’t understand.” Lynn stabs her string bean with her fork. “You never have been taught diplomacy and relations with other factions if you’re working on computers all day.”

“Well, not all day,” Will defends.

“So, excited to become a Dauntless leader?” Shauna asks me. “You will replace one of them this month.”

“I’m not one to brag,” I say. “The job has responsibility attached to it.”

“Someone is still a Stiff somewhat,” Lynn mumbles under her breath.

Tobias glares at her before turning to me. “I wonder if they will have you oversee initiation this year. Max told me two years ago that they let the youngest leader take control of it.”

I register some hope in his voice. He probably wishes that this year, he wouldn’t be in the same room as Eric when it comes to training the new arrivals.

“One will have to wait and see,” says Eric. “It’s still too early yet.”

Indeed it is.

 

* * *

 

Today is the day. It weighs more significance then the initiation ceremony. Instead of anticipating the rankings determining my place in Dauntless, I will take someone’s place among the Dauntless leaders.

I’d be the second person to become a leader at a young age, though my seventeenth birthday isn’t until May, though Eric became seventeen right after his appointment of Dauntless leader.

I change into clean clothes and eat a quick breakfast of plain oatmeal before heading out the door. One part of me is ready and willing to do this. The other half of me just wants to go back to the apartment and curl up in bed. To avoid being appointed as a Dauntless leader.

But this can’t be avoided and I’m no coward. I just hope that I don’t pass out when I get to the conference room.

I stand in the elevator with five other Dauntless on their way to work; Peter being one of them. Ever since that threat I made towards him outside the dining hall, he has neither spoken to me nor paid me any eye contact, like he’s afraid.

I’m glad I sent him a clear message that day.

The elevator door opened to the tenth floor of the Pire and I was among the two people that exited the elevator. My palms began to sweat and my heart began to race as I approached the conference room where they were waiting for me.

I take a deep breath before knocking on the door and about seconds later, it opened. Inside, the Dauntless leaders sit around in a panel facing me. It’s not intimidating as it used to feel, since I’ll become one of them in a few hours.

“Good morning, Tris,” says Max.

“Good morning,” I manage to say. “This concludes the training phase?”

“Exactly,” says Veronica. “You have to pass each area that we tested you on to get to this point.”

“And you have,” says Eric. He pulls up a document from a folder and places it on the table with a pen. “When you sign this, the training phase commences and your position will go in effect twenty-four hours after you signed this.”

I sit down and look at the document.

**_I, Tris Prior, will join in the ranks as a Dauntless leader. I will uphold the values and rules of Dauntless. I agree to the teachings of my faction and hope to engrain them in future Dauntless members. Any misdeeds I commit will reflect on my image, and therefore, be avoided._ **

At the bottom, there is a line where I sign, affirming that I agree to ascending to a Dauntless leader. There is also a line for my predecessor to sign as well.

I wait a minute before sealing my fate with a signature.

When she signs it, agreeing to hand over her position to me, I feel like I passed another initiation.

I’m no longer Beatrice from Abnegation. I’m no longer the initiate who others thought would get cut due to my faction of origin. I’m not just a ordinary Dauntless member.

I’m Tris Prior, one of the Dauntless leaders.

**_To be continued…_ **


End file.
